


Only Our Hearts Will Know

by suisseconfiture



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Domestic Violence, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Reminiscing, nick is a horrible prick, not very explicit, only in chapter 10
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2019-09-14 15:31:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16915527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suisseconfiture/pseuds/suisseconfiture
Summary: Nick could've beaten Stefanos black and blue and he would still come back, because to him, that was what love was.Love was painful, bloody and violent.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you lot enjoy this, but please go in with caution as this will get very rocky!!
> 
> this is not real at all, nick is definitely not an abusive prick so pls don't think he is. i just had this idea & said why not xx

 

The restaurant at the hotel was surprisingly dead for eight in the morning. Even the wait staff seemed to be half asleep that Sunday morning. Stefanos barely got any sleep, so he tried to stay awake by staring at his phone while he ate. Instagram managed to not be very interesting either.

 

Nick sat right next to him, like he always did, talking to his fitness coach as he ate his meal of a spinach tomato omelette, bratwurst and strawberries. Stefanos wasn't paying attention to the conversation, just staying in his own little bubble. 

 

A bird tweets, signalling a text. More specifically, a text from his dad. 

 

He habitually clicked on it immediately, reaching for his cup of orange juice as he read across the Greek letters. 

 

Apostolos had to fly out of Melbourne the day before to get back to Greece; just some family things, and he would be back tomorrow evening. 

 

As he began texting back, he noticed Nick glancing over at his phone screen. It didn't bother him much anymore since he was used to it.

 

Until Nick abruptly- and very roughly- grabbed his wrist. 

 

"Who are you texting?" Nick asked, tugging his phone over so he could see. It was all in Greek and he couldn't read it. 

 

"My dad," Stefanos replied with a slight frown on his face, trying to take his hand back. The tight grip on his wrist was starting to hurt, but just as soon as that happened, Nick let go. 

 

Stef's physio noticed but said nothing. 

 

Everyone around them was used to it. 

 

Nick went back to his conversation as if nothing happened, but Stefanos just messaged his dad back and put his phone away. 

 

Breakfast felt like hours, dragging on so long that Stefanos managed a cheap excuse to get to the practice courts early. 

 

Visibly, Nick looked angry, but he couldn't start a scene in public. 

 

Not like last time, at least. 

 

So, grudgingly, the Aussie presses a kiss to his cheek and lets him leave. 

 

Stefanos thanks God himself for that. 

__

 

Practice is easy enough, hitting with anyone but Nick was very enjoyable. 

 

Jérémy Chardy was a nice guy and spent most of their practice match cracking jokes, just trying to cheer Stefanos up a bit. 

 

It worked, he did feel much better even though his wrist was still a bit sore. 

 

They practised for about an hour and a half before they went their separate ways to their hotels. He wasn't playing a match for another three hours, until Court 2 was free. 

 

Stefanos went to the room he shared with Nick, though not by choice, deciding to take a cold shower. Mostly to decompress and think about something else. 

 

Nick was playing but Stefanos didn't even look up the score to see how he was doing. Secretly, he just wanted him to lose so he'd have to go to the next event. 

 

The idea that he'd have to deal with him for around a week to a week and a half made him hate the Australian Open. It might've been a fun tournament, but all the joy was sucked out of it. 

 

When he got out of the shower, wrapping himself in the towel, branded by the hotel, he picked up his phone from the counter. 

 

Stefanos missed a call from his mother and four from Nick. 

 

He called Nick back first. 

 

Nick hung up on the first ring. 

 

Stefanos wanted to start crying. 

 

He hates when Nick gives him the silent treatment, it's worse than having things thrown at him. Worse than being told he's no one without Nick. 

 

It was worse than everything, because having venom spat at him was better than not knowing and being ignored.

 

At least he would be aware of what was going on. 

 

Calling his mother helped a bit, but he wouldn't listen to either of his parents when it came to his relationship. His father tried repeatedly to talk to him about it, until it got to a point where he could do nothing but turn a blind eye. 

 

It was what Stefanos wanted. 

 

In vain, he tried to call Nick again. That time, it directly to his answering machine. 

 

Clearly, Nick had turned off his phone. 

 

Putting his phone back down on the counter, he looked at himself in the mirror. He could see the bruises on his arm, though they had begun to fade. 

 

It only reminded him that, at one point, it wasn't this bad. 

 

They loved each other at one point. 

 

Nick loved him at one point, even if he questioned it now. 

 

Somehow, the memory put a smile on his face. 

 

A crush he'd developed when he was seventeen turned into a reality when he was just barely nineteen. 

 

Even now, he could vividly remember the first time they kissed, even though it seemed so long ago. 

**

 

Roland Garros, 2017. 

 

Stefanos had made it past three rounds of qualifying, only to lose out to Karlović in the round of 128. 

 

He was kicking himself for losing the first set tiebreak, having a hard time as is just keeping serve. Ivo wasn't giving him any free points, and it was downhill from there.

 

7-5 in the second, and now being down 4-2 in the third. 

 

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, he'd shook the almost frighteningly tall man's hand and retreated to collect his belongings. From there, he retired to the locker room where he sat on the bench; starting to cry. 

 

He knew that his father would surely be looking for him soon, so he tried to get it out of his system. 

 

It was common for him to cry after losses, but this one particularly stung. Like pouring salt into a fresh cut. 

 

Out of nowhere, someone said his name.

 

"Stefanos?" 

 

He didn't immediately turn around, quickly drying his face with his towel before looking over his shoulder. To his surprise, none other than Nick Kyrgios stood less than five feet away. 

 

"Nick- Sorry, I'll move," Stefanos responds, about to stand up and grab his bag until he feels a hand on his shoulder that keeps him in place. 

 

"You're fine, mate," says Nick, taking a seat beside the young man before looking over at him. "You okay?" 

 

Stefanos hesitated at that question, not even wanting to reply. He simply shook his head, slumping a bit as he rested his face in his hands. 

 

He didn't want to start crying again.

 

"Y'know," the Aussie starts as he instinctively wrapped an arm around his shoulders, "It's alright to cry if you need to." 

 

Nick seemed to be well aware of what happened, since it wasn't exactly a secret.

 

Those were the words that caused him to break down into tears again. 

 

Everyone hated losing, but Stefanos felt as though he'd let down his parents by doing so. Nick kept his arm around him, pulling him closer. 

 

It only lasted a few minutes, the older man giving him a gentle, soothing shoulder massage with the tips of his fingers. Stefanos calmed down, focusing on his breathing for a moment before turning his gaze up to face Nick. 

 

"I'm sorry," He spoke with a hint of embarrassment, his face flushed a tint of pink from being so close to Nick. 

 

Nick chuckled a bit, smiling at him with that bright as the sun grin. 

 

Stefanos fancied him, a lot. It made him feel like a giggling school girl with a crush on the most popular guy in school.  

 

"You're going to be fine, mate," Nick reassured him with a small pat of the back. He stood up and let his hand linger on his shoulder. "I'm sure someone's looking for ya." 

 

Stefanos looked up at him as a smile found its way onto his features. Nick couldn't help but admire him for a moment. 

 

"Thanks, Nick." 

 

Nick nodded and turned on his heels, walking back to where his things were. 

 

His ringtone went off, turning to grab it and reading the name. It was his dad. 

 

That confirmed it, he was looking for him. 

 

Stefanos rushed to get all of his stuff from the locker, putting it in his bag and rushing out of the locker room. 

__

 

Later that evening, Stefanos got a text on his phone. The number wasn't one he recognised but he opened it anyway. 

 

_'do u want to go out tonight'_

 

Honestly, it confused him. He tilted his head at it, texting back. 

 

_'who is this? i think you have the wrong number'_

 

Not expecting a reply, he put his phone on his lap and went back to the tv show he was watching with his dad. 

 

The tweeting sound, however, signalled that he did get a response. 

 

It was a picture. 

 

More specifically, a picture of Nick. Stefanos tensed up, since he was sitting directly next to his dad. Another flowering of colour formed on his cheeks. 

 

He sank his teeth into his lower lip, shifting in his spot on the couch before texting him back.

 

_'sure, where?'_

 

It was bold, yes, but it was  _Nick_. He couldn't just say no. 

 

"Hey, dad," Stefanos spoke up, not looking at his father, "A friend wants to hang out, could I go?" 

 

Stefanos may have been eighteen, but he was so used to asking his parents for permission that it happened without him having to think about it. 

 

"Of course, just don't wake me up when you get back." Apostolos responded, trusting his son enough to not get into something stupid. 

 

France was quite safe, anyway, and tennis players are by no means defenceless. 

 

Stefanos smiled and gave his dad a brief hug, before springing up and walking to the closet. 

 

His phone went off again. 

 

_'i'll show u, i'm in the lobby'_

 

By the time the text came, he was already dressed. Stefanos put his phone in his jacket pocket, stepping out of the room and walking to the elevator. 

 

It took a minute or so for it to come, and the same length of time to make it to the lobby. 

 

Nick was, in fact, sitting there, on his phone. Stefanos couldn't help but pause before finally going over and greeting him. 

 

When the Aussie looked up, he smiled that same smile as earlier. 

 

"Finally," says Nick, as if he's been waiting hours or something. 

 

"Sorry, I was with my dad." Stefanos clarifies, shrugging his shoulders as he then glances around. "So, what are we doing?" 

 

Nick stands and puts his phone away, gesturing him with his head to follow along; which he promptly did. 

 

They walked for around five minutes, hardly speaking before arriving outside of what looked like a club. 

 

Stefanos had never even been to a club, not once, and never liked alcohol much. He would skip on the liquor, but the club might be fun. 

 

 _Maybe_. 

 

There was a bouncer at the entrance, which confirmed that it was a club; who initially blocked him from entering. 

 

He couldn't blame him, Stefanos looked about fifteen or sixteen years old. Nick, however, clarified that he was with him and he was of age. 

 

The bouncer seemed to know him, so he was allowed to go in.

 

Whatever idea of fun this was, Stefanos didn't find it as such.

 

At all. 

 

It was deafening inside, a bunch of drunk French people dancing and attempting to sing songs in English and just far too many people in general. 

 

Stefanos didn't want to look boring in front of Nick. 

 

So, he went with it. 

__

 

Going 'with it' only lasted under an hour, until Stefanos had a headache. He wasn't happy. 

 

"I'm just-" He starts before faltering, frowning uncomfortably. "I'm just going to go back to the hotel." 

 

Nick didn't look as irritated as Stefanos would've thought. 

 

"I'll walk you back." 

 

The gesture was very considerate, and that stupid blush came back. This time, Nick noticed. 

 

Not only did the blush return, but the smile on Nick's face did as well. 

 

They both left, stepping into the mild end-of-spring evening. Much like last time, they walked back to the lobby silently. 

 

Stefanos found himself walking closer to Nick this time. 

 

Unexpectedly, Nick put his arm around him as they drew closer to their destination. 

 

"If you want," Nick speaks after the period of silence, "We can hang out in my room for a bit." 

 

Surely, the man must've known that he was impossible to say no to. He exuded charm, enough to notice it upon first glance. 

 

"Sounds good," Stefanos agrees, nodding his head before looking at him. "No drunk French people to annoy us." 

 

Nick laughed at that. 

 

They entered the lobby, Nick letting him in first after opening the door. The elevator arrived quicker this time around. 

 

From there, they went from the elevator to Nick's room. 182. 

 

Stefanos wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting, since he'd hung out at friends' hotel rooms in the past. Only, he wasn't exactly friends with Nick. 

 

Friendly, yes, he was friendly with him, but not friends. Not yet at least.

 

They only met a handful of times, and most of those were quite brief. 

 

It only added to the surprised when they got into his rather messy room, Nick turned to face him with a hand on his jaw and the other on his waist; pulling him into a very unanticipated kiss. 

 

Whether it was foreseen or not- all that mattered was how  _good_  it was. 

 

Good wasn't enough to describe it. 

 

 _Amazing._  

 

Stefanos didn't have to think about returning it, engaging fully as his arms embraced Nick's neck loosely. It was almost painful to break away, but when he realised what was going on, he had to. 

 

"Nick-" Stef interjects, pulling back and looking at him for a moment. "I don't- I'm not...sure if we can do this." 

 

"Why not?" Nick asked with a vaguely annoyed tone, or perhaps it was disappointment. It was hard to tell.

 

"You're twenty-two, and I'm eighteen," Stefanos put emphasis on that, even though it hurt a little. "It's just..."

 

"Wrong?" 

 

"No, it's-" 

 

Stefanos paused because, in a way, it did feel wrong. Not wrong to him, per se, but likely wrong to the people around them. 

 

"Does it feel wrong to you?" Nick sincerely inquired, staring back into Stef's warm brown eyes. 

 

Stefanos gazed at him, eyes glazed over in thought for a moment before he very softly spoke, "No." 

 

They seemed to wait a few seconds before anything, Stefanos being the one to rekindle what he'd originally burned out. 

 

He drew a bit closer, just barely touching his lips before letting them be overtaken. 

**

 

Stefanos had been so distracted by the fond memory, that he didn't realise the tears falling down his face. 

 

He missed the Nick that would make him feel special, the Nick that would bring him flowers when he lost to cheer him up. 

 

The Nick that wouldn't hide how much he loved him. 

 

The Nick that did love him. 

 

Where did the Nick that would never lay a hand on him go?

 

Stefanos knew he had a match in less than two hours, so he couldn't let himself start crying. 

 

He couldn't. 

 

He wouldn't. 

 

A few deep breaths helped him to calm down, moving his hair away from his face as he left the bathroom after what had to be nearly ten minutes of reminiscing. 

 

Getting changed was quick, and he was out the door soon after getting his bag together. 

 

On his way down the hallway, someone rushed past and Stefanos only caught a brief glance of who it was.

 

Sascha, inexplicably. 

 

He had no clue he was on this floor, but it also didn't surprise him much. 

 

Stefanos just pretended that he didn't exist most of the time. 

 

It didn't do anything for him to know that Sascha was only a few doors down, so he just went along with his day. 

 

He took a moment while in the elevator to check how Nick's match was going. 

 

What seemed to just be his luck, he took out Yoshihito Nishioka in three sets in an hour and fifty seven minutes.

 

Now, Stefanos wasn't sure if he wanted to win, but he would try his best anyway. 

 

Whatever his best was would be up for interpretation. 

__

 

Stefanos defeated Steve Darcis, 6-3 1-6 7-5 6-4, in two hours and twenty six minutes. The handshake was brief, but Steve congratulated him on a good match. 

 

No celebration came from the Greek, however. 

 

He wasn't as happy as he should've been to win, only flashing a short smile and waving to the crowd when the score was called. 

 

After signing a few autographs, he left to the locker room to change into more comfortable clothes. A t-shirt, shorts and a light jacket was good enough. 

 

The post-match conference was coming up soon, but he didn't want to go. 

 

However, he put up with it. It was only fifteen minutes of his life he'd never get back. 

 

Dealing with stupid questions, especially the inevitable Sascha Zverev question, wasn't the easiest no matter how many times you hear them. 

 

Each time is just as stupid as the first; but now, it's over with. 

 

He wouldn't have to talk to reporters again tomorrow. 

 

Thank God. 

 

Frederic, Stef's physio, was trying to talk to him about what had happened that morning.  Stefanos wasn't having it, so much so that he just started ignoring him. 

 

"Stef, you can't hide from this forever, you know," Frederic informs him, not sugar coating anything. "He could seriously hurt you." 

 

"If I make him angry, then there isn't much I can do about it," Stefanos honestly responds, taking a drink of water. Frederic looked angry when he said that. 

 

So much so, that he threw his arms up. 

 

"Do you even hear yourself?!" yells Frederic, looking at Stefanos as if he were insane. "You don't deserve to be punched when you don't give him your phone!"

 

Stefanos didn't feel crazy, though. He genuinely thought he'd deserved it, and never made that mistake again. 

 

He didn't know what to say. 

 

"Look, you don't know him well enough," Stefanos insists, shaking his head a bit, "He's great when you get to know him." 

 

"I'm sorry, Stef, but you're like a son to me," Frederic retorted as he folded his arms over his chest, "How do you think your dad feels about him?" 

 

"He likes Nick-" 

 

"Apostolos liked Nick  _before_  he started hitting his son."

 

Stefanos shook his head again, taking another sip of water. The conversation was over by that point, not willing to waste his energy to justify his relationship.

 

In Stefanos's head, it was just a bit rough. He could handle a few hits, the damage would heal anyway but he didn't even care then. 

 

Nick could've beaten him black and blue and he would come back, because to him, that was what love was. 

 

Love was painful, bloody and violent. 

__

 

The clock approached eight at night when Stefanos got back to the hotel. He had eaten with Frederic and Janko Tipsarevic, though he ended up not eating most of his meal. 

 

Stefanos hadn't felt well since that morning, and he had a feeling that seeing Nick wouldn't make him feel better. 

 

He stepped off of the elevator but lingered in the hallway, not wanting to go. 

 

Frederic had offered the second bed in his own hotel room if he was too worried to go back, but he declined. 

 

The only person he really wanted was his dad, and he wouldn't be back for another night. 

 

Stefanos finally worked up the courage to walk to his room, fiddling with the keycard in hand as he stood in front of the door. 

 

A soft buzz signalled the door was unlocked, very carefully pushing the door open with his hand tightly gripping the doorknob. 

 

He considered greeting Nick, but thought better of it. Stefanos closed the door behind him, setting his bags on the floor as he walked in. 

 

Nick was sitting on the end of the bed as if he were waiting. 

 

Stefanos looked at him with a small smile appearing. 

 

"Hey," Stefanos greets him, not noticing the look on the other's face. 

 

"Where were you?" asks Nick, tone low and almost threatening. 

 

Suddenly, Stefanos felt about five feet tall. 

 

"I, uh... went to dinner with Frederic and Janko." Stefanos responded, though in a very obviously scared manner. 

 

"I tried calling you." 

 

Nick was now standing, taking a few steps closer to the younger man. Stefanos shifted back a bit, but was stopped by the wall. He was trembling now but tried to hide it. 

 

"My-" 

 

His voice broke before he could even get the second word out. 

 

"My phone died." 

 

Nick towered over him, reaching over to Stefanos and reaching in his jacket pocket. It's where he always kept his phone. 

 

Pressing the home button on the phone confirmed his suspicion. 

 

The phone wasn't dead, and there were seven missed calls from Nick. 

 

Nick's eyes trailed back to look at Stefanos's. There were no words to describe the look in his eyes that the Greek was all too familiar with. 

 

Without a warning or a hint to what was to come, Nick threw his phone against the wall with the screen completely shattering. It nearly hit Stefanos in the head and caused him to let out a small, terrified whimper as he flinched. 

 

The man then grabbed him by the hair, roughly pulling it as he gave him one of the most menacing looks Stef had ever witnessed. 

 

"You're out with them, did you not think I would be fucking worried?" Nick asked, knowing that he wouldn't get an answer. "No, because you were probably whoring yourself out to them, right?" 

 

That hurt. 

 

Stefanos had never slept with anyone, not even Nick. 

 

"No- of course not-" 

 

"You fucking liar," hisses Nick, tightening his grip as he tugged the hair in his hand. "You couldn't get friends, otherwise." 

 

Stefanos couldn't help another pained groan escape, feeling his hair ripping as it stung badly. 

 

"You're h-hurting me." 

 

Nick scoffed, almost chuckling, finding it almost pathetic. 

 

"And you hurt me, so this is getting even." 

 

Surprisingly, Stefanos struggled a bit against his concrete grip and even tried to push him away. He hadn't attempted to do that in a very long time, and it visibly shocked Nick. 

 

Then it caused him to become enraged. 

 

He let go of his hair, though few quite thick pieces fell from between his fingers, and he threw a punch without thinking. 

 

It landed directly on Stefanos's cheek, knocking him over and onto the ground.

 

Nick let out a fury-filled scream, looking down upon the form of his partner, "Look at what you made me do!" 

 

Stefanos couldn't respond, seeing double as he lay on the floor. He was so dizzy that he was certain, he if even tried to sit up, he'd likely throw up. 

 

This was what it had come to. 

 

That was what love was. 

 

Love was him lying on the floor, partially conscious, having been punched in the face. 

 

All because he didn't return phone calls. 

 

Stefanos knew that it would bruise badly, hurt even worse tomorrow morning. He couldn't stop trembling because of how terrified he was. 

 

He only felt safe with three people, his father, Frederic and Nick. 

 

Nick made him feel like no one could hurt him, but also that he was the only person that could ever truly hurt him. 

 

Surely, somehow, Nick would come to his senses. 

 

Nick would remember how to love him again. 

 

The sound of the door opening caused Stef to shift just a bit to look at it. Nick was gone, leaving the door partially cracked.  

 

So, he closed his eyes.

 

Perhaps, if he slept for a little while, he would wake up and figure out that it had been just a dream. 

 

 

Just a bad,  _terrible_  dream. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has some sort of sexual content ( if you would call it that ) so keep that in mind! i hope you lot enjoy xx

When Stefanos opened his eyes, his vision was still slightly blurry. He felt warm, though.

 

Someone was with him, but he couldn't make out who.

 

Whoever it was, they were speaking German. They sat directly beside him.

 

Or were they holding him?

 

Stefanos still felt so incredibly dizzy and disoriented that he couldn't tell.

 

He tried to sit up, but it didn't really work. The swelling and bruising in his cheek had gotten bad, and Stefanos didn't know what time it was.

 

"Don't sit up," cautions the mystery man, of whom Stef could confirm was, indeed, holding him. The soft fabric pressed against his face was a blanket that this person had wrapped him up in, likely due to his shaking.

 

He wasn't cold, at all, but the blanket was very comforting.

 

So much so, that he managed to completely forget what had transpired only a few hours before.

 

Though, he could make out enough features of the face to confirm that it was Sascha.

 

Stefanos shifted slightly, wanting to get up but, at the same time, wanting to stay close to this secure figure that seemed to not want to let him go.

 

"Where," He starts quietly, eyes closed again, "Nick, where is he?"

 

Sascha pursed his lips into a tight line, shaking his head as he looked at Mischa.

 

"I can't believe this." The German spoke in his native tongue.

 

Sascha could believe it, but he never thought his temper could reach a feat like that. Especially to someone like Stefanos, who probably couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag.

 

He may have had no clue where Nick was, but Sascha would be damn sure that he'd get his hands on him when he found out.

 

"No one can," Mischa responded in kind as he looked over at the dent in the wall and shards of glass on the floor, "God forbid the media catches wind of this."

 

Stefanos was still not fully with it, considering the blow to the face was one of the hardest he'd ever been on the receiving end of.

 

By no means did Sascha like Stefanos, but he didn't think anyone deserved something like that. It wasn't hard to put two and two together when you came into the suite; especially since people don't generally sleep on the floor amongst glass that could very well cut them.

 

The chances of Nick coming back there that night weren't particularly high, so Sascha moved to get Stef into bed.

 

He wouldn't move, though.

 

Stefanos's hand was tightly clutching onto Sascha's jacket sleeve.

 

Mischa looked at his brother, simply nodding as he stood up.

 

Sascha shifted so he could actually stand, lifting Stefanos up with relative ease. Lifting weights were really proving to be helpful at that moment.

 

They both went six doors down before getting to the Zverev's room, the younger brother setting the even younger guest down at the end of the bed.

 

"You'll be fine here, Mischa and I aren't leaving."

 

Stefanos was too out of it to protest; he just wanted to sleep after being woken up.

 

Most of all, he wanted to see Nick in the morning.

 

They were supposed to go out to lunch together.

 

Sascha stayed true to his word, pulling the blankets on the bed back and getting in. Stefanos moved to burrow under the blankets beside the German.

 

It didn't cross his mind for a second that the person he was nestled up against wasn't Nick. The comfort was there, and that was all Stef really needed.

 

That alone was enough for him to fall asleep.

 

__  
  


 

Only to have the sun wake him up again.

 

His cheek was aching today, unlike last night, but the swelling had gone down a bit. Stefanos shielded his eyes from the light, rubbing the sleep from them with his free hand.

 

The room was empty, save for the discarded tennis racquets on Mischa's bed and the pile of dirty clothes.

 

Stefanos made a point of sitting up slowly, still not a hundred percent from the injury the night before. He used the tips of his fingers to briefly touch the bruised skin, wincing slightly as even the tiniest contact hurt like hell.

 

So, he ignores the pain.

 

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stretched before standing up fully.

 

Last night was incredibly blurry, but he remembered the only important part of it.

 

Stefanos walked from the bed to the door, then out into the hallway. He took himself to his and Nick's room, finding that the door was ever so slightly cracked.

 

Clearly, that was purposeful.

 

Pushing the door open quietly, he stepped in and let it nearly close behind him. Strangely, Stefanos didn't feel scared to be in there.

 

Not even when he saw Nick, asleep in what would've been their bed.

 

His gaze was fixing on him, a slight of a smile forming on his lips.

 

Nick wasn't going to be waking up, considering he was a heavy sleeper. So, Stefanos walked around to his side of the bed, leaning down before pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

 

It was a tiny gesture, but to Stef it meant a lot.

 

Even Nick seemed to acknowledge it in his sleep, a hand gently moving to rest on the back of the Greek's neck.

 

To say Stefanos was shocked would be an understatement. His heart started racing a bit.

 

With a short tug, Nick pulled him so he was lying beside him, wrapping his arms around his waist with his face in his shoulder.

 

That basically confirmed that the Aussie was awake.

 

Stefanos didn't move him, rather just found his fingers running through Nick's short, dark hair with an arm loosely draped over his neck.

 

Deja vu.

 

It was a feeling Stefanos frequently got in moments like these.

 

"Stef," mumbles Nick, the fabric of the Greek's jacket muffling the sound a bit.

 

Stefanos simply hums in response, resting his chin atop his head.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

Thus, the cycle viciously repeated itself once again.

 

He couldn't bring himself to smile in reaction to those words. They didn't make him happy.

 

So, he just pressed a kiss to his forehead.

 

"It's alright."

 

That was all he could think to say. What was done couldn't be reversed, so there seemed to be no point in dwelling on it.

 

The injury would heal, they always did.

 

At least, the physical ones did.

 

Stefanos closed his eyes, trying to avoid the harsh memories of things far worse, but they didn't go away.

 

They were nightmares that came to him at the worst times imaginable, be it during a match or when he slept.

 

Even now, one, in particular, was sneaking up on him.

  
  


**  
  


A few days in Nassau sounded like a nice break.

 

The sun was always shining, the beaches were white and it was constantly warm.

 

It  _sounded_  like a nice break.

 

Stefanos only spent four days there after Wimbledon, thinking Nick could use a bit of company. Had Nick not destroyed his camera, he would've been filming the entire time.

 

That, obviously, wouldn't be the case.

 

He didn't record anything, those days; save for the videos on his Instagram stories and the last Youtube video he made announcing that he'd take a break from the videos.

 

So, he just decided to try and enjoy the scenery. It was better than being stuck in a hotel all day.

 

Nick had given him the spare key to his apartment the month before, so he let himself in to drop his bags inside before setting off on his own adventure.

 

The Aussie wasn't there, rather he was off practising at the courts downtown, so it freed up around three hours of time for Stefanos.

 

Google Maps were a lifesaver since it meant he wouldn't need someone to show him around. He could go off on his own and explore.

 

Which is exactly what he did.

__  
  


 

Stefanos had spent an hour just at the beach, enjoying the sun and the blue skies. It reminded him of Greece, though with a slightly more tropical environment.

 

It didn't take long to walk back, so he stayed for another thirty minutes until Nick called him.

 

For some reason, he was irritated but didn't explicitly say why; rather, he just demanded that he get back to the apartment.

 

Stefanos didn't really care, the sun would be setting soon anyway so he simply walked home without protesting.

 

Ten minutes passed before the door finally opened, the Greek entering with the door shutting behind him.

 

"Nick," Stefanos calls out, dropping his keyring on the entryway table, "I'm back."

 

No one seemed to even be there. He looked around before going into the kitchen, where Nick was standing beside the counter, on his phone.

 

Stefanos repeated himself. "I'm back."

 

"I heard you the first time," Nick responds in the same tone as earlier, looking over at him with an expression that read the same, "Where were you?"

 

"At the beach," Stefanos clarified as he took a glass from the cupboard, getting some water from the tap and sipping it.

 

"Were you with anyone?"

 

That was a stupid question.

 

"Obviously not, I don't know anyone here," He nearly started laughing, rolling his eyes as he decided to tease him a little, "Unless I was with my  _other_  boyfriend."

 

Nick clearly didn't find it funny, because he grabbed him by the arm and tugged him over forcefully. "Don't test me, Stefanos."

 

Stefanos looked at him, almost in disbelief, roughly pulling his arm away, "I wasn't with anyone. Don't ever touch me like that again, Nicholas."

 

There was only a small bit of water left in his glass, so he drank the rest and put it in the sink before walking right past him.   
  


__  
  


 

The night was quiet, both Stefanos and Nick deciding unanimously to stay in for the evening and watch a few movies. Nick was still annoyed from earlier, but Stef had mostly forgotten about it.

 

Considering Stefanos wasn't very hungry, he opted for an apple while Nick had some cheap and not very good chicken takeout. Honestly, the movie was boring, so the Greek spent half of the screening on his phone.

 

Those philosophical tweets and Instagram captions weren't going to write themselves.

 

They also wouldn't write themselves without the help of another piece of fruit.

 

Stefanos put his phone on the couch and stood up, walking to the kitchen to get a mandarin. Nick didn't look at him as he did so.

 

It took him a minute or two to peel it since the rind kept breaking, but eventually, he managed to get all of it off. He walked back to the couch, victorious in his journey before Nick interrupted it.

 

"What the fuck is this."

 

Nick sounded angry, but phrased it like a statement rather than a question.

 

"What's what?" asks Stefanos, having already eaten a piece of the newly acquired fruit.

 

Nick stood up and got almost uncomfortably close, holding Stef's phone up with a text conversation.

 

"What the _fuck_  is this?" Now he sounded even angrier. Stefanos narrowed his eyes a bit as he attempted to snatch his phone away.

 

"I was texting Maria," Stef retorts sharply as he tries again to grab it, accidentally dropping his mandarin in the process, "Give me my phone back- why were you even looking through my messages?!"

 

"Texting, yeah fucking right," Nick hissed as he refused to give it back, his free hand grabbing onto his shirt collar, "Then tell me what it says."

 

"It was from when she was at Gstaad!" Stefanos yelled, shoving him hard out of frustration, "I was congratulating her, now give me my fucking phone back!"

 

Nick dropped his phone on the couch, grabbing the Greek by the wrists and slamming him into the wall. His grip was horribly tight, enough for Stefanos to groan in pain and struggle.

 

"You had better not be fucking her, or I swear to god," Nick growled, tightening his hands around his wrists.

 

"Or what?" Stefanos spoke, though with a hint of fear in his voice, he wasn't backing down as he kept struggling.

 

Only this time, Nick didn't answer that question. "Are you fucking her?"

 

"Of course not you idiot! What makes you think I'd fuck someone else if I haven't even fucked you!"

 

Stefanos felt more angry than sad that he'd even accuse him of such a thing.

 

Nick was noticeably about to reach his breaking point, only letting go of him to throw a punch that landed directly into the wall; putting a hole in it.

 

Stefanos was quick to rush away, suddenly not feeling as brave as he had just moments ago. Without thinking, he grabbed a knife from the first drawer he saw, just for peace of mind.

 

He had backed himself into the counter, clutching it close as he heard Nick trailing not very far behind.

 

When he saw him, Nick actually laughed. It was easy to see from that distance that he was shaking.

 

"A knife? You're gonna stab me?"

 

"If- If I have to, I will."

 

The Australian took a few steps closer, being now less than three feet away.

 

"Then do it, stab me."

 

Stefanos found himself clutching it tighter, but not moving an inch. He just stared at him, unable to stop trembling before he seemed to shift and point it at Nick.

 

Then he hesitated.

 

Then it fell from his grasp, the metallic clank sounding through the kitchen.

 

"I can't."

 

Nick, unlike him, didn't hesitate.

 

Before Stefanos even realised it, Nick's hands took hold of his throat and gripped even tighter than his wrists mere minutes ago.

 

He couldn't breathe, and no amount of thrashing or trying in vain to scream was helping. Stefanos tried to pull his hands away, but any remnants of strength were starting to run away from him.

 

"If you ever try to pull something like that again, I'm not going to be the one on the other side of that knife. Understand?"

 

Nick's hold constricted even more, Stefanos just attempting to stay conscious as he nodded quickly.

 

He waited for a few moments before letting go.

 

The Greek slid down the wall as he took in as much air as he could, Nick lingering to watch as he struggled at first.

 

Stefanos held where he'd been strangled, trembling violently as he shakily looked up at Nick.

 

_"I'm sorry."_

 

**  
  


 

It was like Nick had said a number of times before; Stefanos should've known what he was getting into.

 

Men were naturally violent.

 

He couldn't be surprised that such a thing happened.

 

It never even occurred to him that it was a pattern. There wasn't much Nick could accuse him of except for cheating.

 

Honestly, he never even realised that it happened so often.

 

When Stefanos looked back down at Nick, he found that he'd fallen back asleep. That gave him the chance to, very carefully, shift away and finally get something to eat.

 

Low blood sugar wasn't good for anyone.

 

The hallway was very quiet, even quieter than the previous days. He'd walked that hall nearly a dozen times, but each of those times it felt very foreign.

 

He missed Greece.

 

He missed his whole family.

 

When he started dating Nick, he never realised how isolated he'd become over the last year because of Nick's overbearing possessiveness.

 

At that moment, his cheek stung.

 

Stefanos winced as he finally pressed the elevator button, glancing down at his watch.

 

7:39.

 

It was a lot earlier than he realised.

 

He stepped into the empty elevator and pressed his back against the wall.

 

Eating was the last thing on his mental to-do list, but there was no way he'd manage without it.

 

So, he caved. Stefanos got porridge and forced himself through it, quickly paying and getting back upstairs.

 

Someone stuck their hand between the elevator doors just before they closed, none other than Sascha Zverev stepping inside.

 

"Oh god-" Was the first thing he said when he looked at Stefanos. "Your face."

 

He'd nearly forgotten about the injury, thinking that he was referring to how dishevelled he looked.

 

"I'm fine, it doesn't hurt." Stefanos lied, waving his hand.

 

Sascha furrowed his brows in response, "You didn't go to see Nick, did you?"

 

Stefanos's eyes trailed down as he stuck his hands in his pockets, "I did, but he said sorry. I think he's starting to change."

 

There were a million replies to that, but Sascha couldn't think of even one.

 

How someone could be so brainwashed, for lack of a better word, truly baffled him.

 

"So, he isn't going to...?"

 

Stefanos nodded his head, but something about his manner suggested nothing but disbelief.

 

Sascha just mumbled 'alright', not knowing what else to do.

 

They both assumed the conversation was over then, going to their respective sides of the elevator after Sascha pushed the floor button again.

 

It became incredibly silent; no stupid music to distract from it.

 

When the German turned to glance over at Stef, he was staring off into space with a blank expression on his face, though a slight smile seemed to break through.

 

That look begged the question; what on earth was he thinking about?  


 

**  
  


 

For Stefanos's nineteenth birthday, he spent a week in Greece with his parents and siblings. He loved being home, although he hadn't seen Nick since Roland Garros.

 

The day he'd landed in Athens, they talked on the phone for nearly an hour at the airport when his mother hadn't shown up on time due to traffic.

 

He passed the time and had the ability to give Stefanos a laugh, which many couldn't do.

 

Though, the Australian lamented that he couldn't do it in person.

 

"God," says Nick, "I miss you."

 

"If only you could just-" Stefanos laughs a bit, shrugging his shoulders despite knowing the other couldn't see him. "Fall out of the sky or something."

 

"If I fell out of the sky, you would have a dead boyfriend." Nick clarifies with a laugh of his own, the Greek imagining his bright-as-the-sun smile of his in his head.

 

"You'd might as well be dead, I never see you." He responds, almost sounding disappointed as their schedules took them in completely opposite directions most times, "I really do miss you, Nick."

 

"Well," Nick starts with a lower tone, "Then maybe you could come outside."

 

That response caused Stefanos to raise an eyebrow in slight confusion.

 

Nevertheless, he stood up while keeping the phone to his ear, picking up his suitcase and walking to the doors of Athens International Airport. His father didn't follow.

 

He looked around for a second before speaking up, "Are you messing with me?"

 

"You tell me."

 

Stefanos still didn't get what was going on, so he pulled the phone away to look around again. Then, he saw him.

 

Nick was there.

 

Without even thinking, Stefanos darted from his spot excitedly before jumping onto Nick with arms quick to embrace him with a tight hug.

 

He practically tackled him, so hard, in fact, that he knocked him over. Being that they were the exact same height, it wasn't a very hard task.

 

Nick had a grin on his face as he hugged him, arms firmly wrapped around his waist as he peppered Stefanos's head with kisses; now sitting up.

 

"Someone's happy to see me."

 

A grin overtook his face as he buried his nose into his hair, Stefanos barely having come down from the very sight of him.

 

He took a moment before pulling away to give Nick a proper kiss, a big grin on his face as well.

 

"You outdid yourself this time," Stef joked lightly as he pressed his forehead against the Australian's, "You're going to get me something bigger next year, right?"

 

"Mhm," hums Nick as he looked up for a moment in mock thought, "I was thinking a car."

 

Stefanos rolled his eyes with a shake of the head, "A car and no licence?"

 

"I thought it sounded like a good idea." Nick laughed as he finally stood up, Stefanos doing the same.

 

"You actually think?" Stefanos raised an eyebrow with a small smirk on his lips, "That's surprising."

 

"Oh ha-ha," Nick faked an overdone laugh, nudging the Greek. "You're very funny, Steffi."

 

Stefanos scoffed as he looked over, seeing his mother's car first before she got out. He waved with a smile as he walked past Nick, hugging her when she exited.

 

Julia gave her son a kiss on the cheek and asked how his trip was; in Russian, however. Stef responded in kind, saying it wasn't bad, just boring.

 

Apostolos came out with his own luggage, happily greeting his wife with a hug and a kiss.

 

Nick took Stefanos's bags without asking, opening the boot of the car and putting them in; taking Apostolos's suitcase as well.

 

The three members of the Tsitsipas clan were all talking, but Nick couldn't understand a single word of it.

 

Whatever the conversation was, it wasn't long before Stef had gotten into the back seat of the car and was now on his phone. Nick followed him not too long after, doing the same.

 

It would take around twenty-five minutes o more to get back to Vouliagmeni, so keeping preoccupied would make it feel more like five minutes.

 

During the trip, Stefanos's head found it's spot on Nick's shoulder, managing to doze off for a few minutes.  
  


__  
  


 

Typical to any good Greek family, everyone went out for dinner to Stefanos's favourite restaurant and stayed for a few hours; the time being fifteen minutes past twelve.

 

Being that he'd been travelling all that morning, Stefanos opted to go home slightly early with Nick. His family would be coming back at one, so they didn't mind.

 

The walk home was quick, only about seven minutes, and the two spent most of it talking.

 

"Okay, okay," says Stef, running a hand through his own hair in thought, "You have a team, who do you have on it?"

 

"Retired or active players?" Nick asks as he runs through his options in his head.

 

"Both."

 

Nick hums, putting the list together mentally.

 

"Federer, obviously, Rafa, Sascha...you, because we need someone cute to look at, me, and John McEnroe." The Australian settles on one answer, nodding his head firmly.

 

Stefanos laughed, smiling at his personal mention.

 

"Quite a team you've got, I wonder if we would win?"

 

"I guess we'll find out at the Laver Cup."

 

"When's that again?"

 

"September 22nd, you coming?"

 

Stefanos had to think for a second before shaking his head.

 

"Can't, playing Moselle then going to Chengdu right after." Stef shrugs as he couldn't help but laugh, "We both know Team Europe is going to kill you lot anyway."

 

"Wow, you're a traitor  _and_  you're no fun." Nick huffs with a bit of an attitude, but he can't help but kiss the Greek's cheek. "I guess I can forgive you though, since, y'know," He smiles a bit as he swung an arm around his waist, pressing another kiss to his jaw almost teasingly, "It's your birthday."

 

Stefanos was certain that his face was red, unknowingly biting on his lip slightly as he glanced up at one of the street signs; mostly to distract himself from the word 'traitor', which he didn't know the meaning of, and the slight rush of what could only be lust ( though he didn't have a clue what that felt like ).

 

Only a few more houses and they'd be back.

 

That couldn't come soon enough.

 

"You never told me what my present was." Stef reminds him, turning to look at Nick; who was visibly trying to hold back temptation.

 

"Me coming wasn't good enough?" Nick teases with one of those borderline snickers on his lips, "Or, do you mean the  _other_  one?"

 

"The  _other_  one, obviously."

 

Only, Nick didn't give a verbal response, pausing in his gait before pulling Stef in for a proper kiss. It was slightly different, the Australian catching a bit of the lingering taste of mango sherbet from his tongue.

 

The taste was far sweeter than even the most artificial of candy.

 

Stefanos didn't mind, finding the sweetness of chocolate quite enjoyable.

 

Had they not broken away and composed themselves, there was little doubt that Nick would've gone completely mad.

 

As it was, he could hardly contain himself.

 

Only a few more houses.

 

Surprisingly, neither had a single drop of alcohol. It could've looked that way, Stefanos trying to not trip over the uneven pavement as Nick nibbled on his neck like a very docile vampire.

 

Finally, the front door of his entirely white house shined almost like a beacon.

 

The splices of conversation and far too provocative words being spoken were driving Stef insane. Nick had an odd talent when it came to getting him off by just talking.

 

Any reservations there might've been were checked at the door the very moment it closed.

 

In the back of his head, Stefanos knew he had to be quiet since Petros was sick and had stayed home; but he could barely hear his own thoughts let alone focus enough to keep the noise down.

 

Managing up the stairs, his jacket had disappeared when they both found their way into the Greek's bedroom.

 

It was discarded onto the floor as Nick effortlessly position Stef to where his back pressed against the wall, locked in one of the most passionate make-out sessions they'd ever had.

 

When Nick pulled away, it was only to kiss at his neck before stopping at his ear. His breath, incredibly hot against Stef's skin, caused a slight shiver to run up his spine.

 

"What do you want for your present?" He asks in the most gentle whisper imaginable.

 

To Stefanos, it was shocking enough that he wasn't a puddle already.

 

He spoke, but it was breathy and a bit thin.

 

"You."

 

Nick knew fully what that meant.

 

The slight sting of a bite on his ear caused Stefanos to groan, pressing his fingertips into Nick's shoulder as the Australian pulled on his shirt.

 

He didn't hesitate to lift it over his head, ending up like the jacket from before as Nick managed to go from against the wall to hovering over him on the bed.

 

Nick paused for a handful of seconds, not hiding that he was admiring the other's features.

 

'Steffi' may have been a joke, even 'Stephanie' if they had an argument, but he never found those names fully fitting.

 

They weren't worthy.

 

Stefanos was, at least to Nick, the closest to a male Aphrodite there was.

 

If he were Aphrodite, then to Stefanos, Nick was his Adonis.

 

"I love you."

 

Nick spoke honestly, the feeling in his words being completely raw.

 

A smile cracked through, Stefanos's expression reading just on the edge of vulnerable.

 

The Greek leaned up to respond with a kiss, pulling him down as his hands planted on his neck and chest.

 

Nick didn't mind at all, fully indulging in the flavour of mango.

 

His lips trailed from Stef's mouth to his jaw, then his neck. Nick couldn't resist biting a bit, sucking the skin just on the edge of rough.

 

One time was enough, only one mark was needed. It bruised heavily, that being the only blemish on the perfectly tanned landscape.

 

Stefanos had his fingers tangled in his short crop of thick hair, almost whining with the sensation.

 

Both of them were getting slightly impatient, Stefanos more so than Nick, uncontrollably shifting underneath him.

 

Honestly, Nick loved that.

 

That smirk found it's way on his face again as he moved to look down at him.

 

"Someone's impatient."

 

Stefanos let out an irritated groan, tightly squeezing Nick's arm.

 

Apparently a little more restless than he'd thought. 

 

Nick took a hint as his hand briefly clutching his side before letting it move to his jeans, struggling at first to get it undone. 

 

Once he did, however.

**

 

Blank. 

 

His brain short-circuited and suddenly, he couldn't remember the rest. 

 

Stefanos had been blankly staring at the carpet of the hotel hallway, the only thing that he could feel being the painful emptiness in his chest.

 

It ached.

 

He didn't know why, but he couldn't finish that memory.

 

"Stef, are you-" 

 

Sascha tried to speak, but didn't get the response he expected. 

 

"Shut up." 

 

The German clearly looked confused, brows furrowed as he looked at the other. 

 

Stefanos couldn't think, he was trying to finish the moment but he couldn't.

 

His own mind wouldn't let him. 

 

To say he looked insane was completely accurate, whispering to himself as if trying to jog his own memory. 

 

All the while, his eyes were watering. 

 

Everything that he'd thought before was starting to fracture. 

 

Stefanos shook his head, reaching a hand up into his own hair as he mumbles, "Why can't I fucking remember?" 

 

It made no sense. 

 

That memory was good, and he could remember them the best; but now the bad ones were more vivid. 

 

Every detail, right down to the clothes they were wearing, could be easily recalled in the nasty fights.

 

The pain when he'd been thrown into a granite counter and fractured a rib, he could never forget it. 

 

One of the most intimate moments he'd shared with Nick, the one that meant so much to him, had nearly disappeared entirely. 

 

Sascha simply watched him, not knowing what to do. 

 

It was a terrible sight, like watching someone unravel completely. 

 

In a way, Stefanos was falling apart. Everything that was going on around him was crumbling. 

 

Nick was his first everything: first kiss, first date, first person to be introduced to his family and the first person that he ever thought he loved.

 

He was also the first person to hurt him traumatically; both physically and emotionally. 

 

Still, Sascha didn't leave. 

 

Stefanos took in a deep breath as he finally lifted his head, turning to look at Sascha. 

 

"Why do I love him so much?" He asks, genuinely being at a loss. Stefanos didn't know where he stood, where him and Nick stood.

 

Sascha didn't have a response. He'd never been involved in a relationship like that, only a handful of flings and less-than-three-month girlfriends to his name.

 

"You can't control it," says Sascha but he wasn't confident in that answer, taking a step closer, "But you need to get out of it. It might hurt, but you don't deserve to be treated like that."

 

Stefanos's face became a bit red as the tears fell down his face, hiding it in his hands, "I _can't_ -" His words changed from English to Greek. 

 

It turned into a mumbled ramble, Sascha placing a hand on his shoulder as he simply started crying more.

 

"Stef, why can't you?"

 

"Because I fucking can't! He's the only person I can rely on, and no one- no one would fucking want me!" He was yelling now, very obviously going into a stress episode. "I just- I just love him so fucking much but I don't feel good enough, he's so sweet and dependable and-"

 

"You can love him all you want, but you can't _fix him_. You need to leave him." 

 

"But I don't _want_ to leave him, it's not that simple. I can't just leave someone because things are little tough- things get rough all the time." 

 

Stefanos didn't realise that he'd been living the last year with rose-coloured glasses. Every situation that he deemed 'rough' was actually far worse than he'd originally remembered. 

 

He'd been through so much, but had lived his life entirely detached from reality. 

 

Why was it only changing now?

 

"Has he changed?" Sascha asks, finding it to be one of the few unanswered questions. It was one of the reasons Stefanos refused to leave. 

 

He didn't have to answer.

 

No. Nick _never_ changed, no matter how many times he'd promised to do better.

 

Stefanos let out a low cry as he allowed himself be led out of the elevator, having to sit against a wall as he was finding it a bit difficult to stand up. The conversation was always draining to even think about, but actually talking about it was harder. 

 

"I can make him change, I know I can. I know I can help him. He's just- he has a temper but all of us do-" 

 

"Stefanos, look at me." Sascha crouches in front of him at eye level, moving his hands away from his face. "Look at me." 

 

The German's tone wasn't harsh, rather very gentle, which matched the look in his eyes. Stefanos complied and did, in fact, look at him.

 

He contemplated even bringing up what he was about to; but it wasn't worth keeping quiet. It made Sascha feel guilty.

 

If there was one thing Sascha wasn't, it was a liar. He wasn't willing to lie for Nick.

 

Not anymore.

 

"Nick is dating Ajla Tomljanovic. It started in February and he told me not to mention it to you," Sascha admits in a low voice, looking genuinely remorseful for not having said it before, "I'm so, so sorry that I didn't tell you sooner." 

 

Stefanos's expression, however, didn't change. He didn't even look very shocked. 

 

All Sascha could see was how painful that was, the Greek's eyes gave it away. 

 

He could also tell that he didn't fully believe him. 

 

There remained a beat of silence before Stefanos slowly looked down, shakily swallowing back.

 

"Sascha," Stefanos quietly speaks, not moving his gaze again.

 

A small hum left the German in response. 

 

Visibly, Stefanos hesitates.

 

 

"Can I stay with you tonight?"


	3. Chapter 3

 

"Stef, I-" Frederic faltered as he tried to process what Stefanos had just told him, a frown cracking through his expression, "I'm so sorry."

 

Honestly, Frederic looked more upset than Stefanos did.

 

The Greek sat on the yoga mat, obviously drained and wanting to do nothing.

 

Finding out Nick had been cheating didn't change much of anything relationship-wise; but it affected him mentally.

 

Now, he was feeling even more inadequate than before.

 

In his head, Stefanos was preparing himself for the inevitable fight that would break out later.

 

He thought about how it would feel to finally end everything; as the last six attempts never quite followed through.

 

"What're you going to do?" asks Frederic with a slight tilt of the head, sitting down on the floor in front of him.

 

Stefanos wasn't looking at him, rather staring at the floor, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head, "I don't know, I really don't."

 

"Well," Frederic let out an almost nervous chuckle, raising an eyebrow, "Surely, you can't stay with him after  _that_?"

 

In the back of Stef's mind, a thought sprung up immediately. _It wouldn't be the first time._

 

"This was..." Stefanos began, trailing off somewhat before finally picking his gaze up to look at his physio, "It was a long time coming, I guess. Maybe it's the best for him."

 

"What about the best for you? You're not the one-"

 

"I have to think about him, I don't want to be selfish."

 

Stefanos didn't want to admit that he was scared; he didn't want to look weak.

 

He already seemed weak when he and Nick got into fights that the Australian would always win without fail, leaving with very visible injuries every time.

 

The fear was very real, even if he wasn't going to explicitly say so.

 

That would be the seventh time Stefanos would attempt to end it, but it would have to be the last one. There wouldn't be another chance.

 

Frederic wasn't happy about the situation, but if it meant Stef left Nick, then it just had to be that way.

 

"You're doing the right thing, Stef, for yourself and your family."

 

He wanted to reassure him, as there was a decent chance he could back out at the last moment.

 

"Maybe," Stef spoke but with very little emotion, resting his jaw in his palm, "I just hope he'll be happier with her."

 

This time, Frederic held his tongue and said nothing. Instead, he pulled Stefanos into a much-needed hug.

 

It was well received.  
  
  


__  
  
  


 

Sascha found himself in his hotel room, processing the events of the past day and a half. Everything seemed to be fitting together, but not in the way he expected.

 

He could remember when he was a bit jealous of Nick and Stefanos's relationship.

 

It was strange to think about it now, because when he looked back on it; things weren't perfect back then either.

 

The first time he could remember was completely normal, which was at the Australian Open players' party in 2018.

 

Miami of that same year, however, was a completely different story.   
  
  


 

**  
  
  


 

The humidity in Miami was always high, you could drink the air with a straw most days.

 

It was hot and muggy, and the sun blazed across all corners of the city; as well as all corners of the tennis court.

 

Today, March 20th, would be dedicated to something other than tennis. Socialization.

 

Sascha would've been there with Domi, but he'd withdrawn a few days before due to a fractured ankle. So, he was there alone.

 

Marcelo was too busy doing something else, which was just his luck.

 

Maybe the heat was melting his brain, because he decided to drink that evening. The champagne looked too tempting.

 

Nick was there, as well as Thanasi and a few American players that he couldn't remember the names of.

 

Whatever they were talking about, he couldn't hear and he didn't care to hear either.

 

The event was quite small, only around fifty people in the room but it was evenly spaced out.

 

Sascha sat at a table with his glass of alcohol gleaming under the light, getting lost in the cascade of bubbles that rose to the top.

 

It was far more interesting than anyone else in the room.

 

As he stared into the liquid, Sascha could hear someone walking behind him and trying to get Nick's attention.

 

By the sound of it, it had to be Stefanos.

 

Instantly, he felt a small pang of guilt. His eyebrows furrowed somewhat as he glanced over his shoulder.

 

Stefanos had walked over to Nick, Thanasi and company, wanting to talk to Nick.

 

Sascha's eyes lingered on him for a moment.

 

He looked quite nice, all curly hair, bright eyes and tanned skin.

 

Very nice, actually, but for some reason, he didn't look very happy.

 

Nick didn't look happy the second he saw him either.

 

It was a far cry from Australia when they were affectionate and overjoyed to be around one another.

 

Both of them were talking, but the Australian had grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the side.

 

Thanasi didn't even acknowledge Stef once when he was there, nor did the Americans.

 

Sascha watched as they seemingly started arguing. Nick looked almost furious now.

 

The Greek didn't look angry, rather he looked upset.

 

It didn't occur to him that Nick hadn't let go of Stef's arm.

 

"We were supposed to go to the beach today, you swore-" Stefanos began but was cut off by Nick nearly screaming in anger.

 

"I know, okay, I fucking know. I forgot, we can go on Thursday." Nick responded, visibly trying to keep himself from freaking out. He was almost shaking.

 

"I have a match that day, that's why we were going  _today,_ " The Greek tried to make his point clear, frowning now as he had cancelled plans with his father to be there. "I sent you my schedule, didn't you read it?"

 

Nick wasn't having it. He grabbed the back of Stef's neck and gripped it tightly, tugging him closer.

 

"Drop it. Go back to the hotel and do something else," The Australian spoke lowly, but not low enough to be unheard, "I'm sure your dad has nothing better to do."

 

Stefanos tensed up, shoving him away after that with a tinge of disbelief colouring his face.

 

"Go to hell," He retorts with venom in his words, glaring at him, "You're a fucking asshole."

 

Sascha was shocked. They'd never exhibited behaviour like that in the past, but there they were, on the verge of a physical fight in the middle of a party.

 

He used to be jealous of them.

 

Now he wasn't so sure what he was so envious of in the first place.

 

Nick didn't hesitate to grab Stefanos by the hair, speaking to where no one else could hear.

 

Honestly, Sascha was contemplating getting up and intervening.

 

Before he could, Stefanos had gotten away and actually knocked into him as the German was getting up.

 

He very briefly said 'sorry' but didn't slow down at all, opening the door and slamming it shut behind him unintentionally.

 

Nick went back to his group as if nothing had happened.

 

Sascha couldn't understand what that was about at all, it was entirely out of the blue.

 

He had to stop and think about what he'd just witnessed.

 

After a few minutes, Sascha decided to let it go.

 

There wasn't anything he could do about it anyway.

 

 

__

 

 

At least, that's what he thought.

 

It seemed that most of the players were put into the same hotel, because Sascha was staying in the same place as around fifteen other people.

 

He'd caught Bethanie Mattek-Sands in the hallway on his way to the gym and greeted Hyeon Chung and David Ferrer in the lobby. 

 

Sascha also saw Nick a few times, but didn't see Stefanos at all. 

 

When the pair played at an event together, they always stayed in the same room but it didn't seem like that was the case this time. 

 

At least, that was what he thought. 

 

Sascha had made it into the third round easily, coming back from his post-match ritual at the gym and to the hotel. 

 

The lobby was relatively quiet, a family signing in, a random guy on the couch with his phone in hand and, inexplicably, Stefanos talking to what looked to be the manager.

 

Even more strange, his right wrist was in a splint and he was very obviously struggling with it. The conversation with the hotel manager looked quite tense, and the Greek was incredibly stressed out. 

 

Trying to be inconspicuous, he casually walked by and paused behind one of the columns to listen in. 

 

Yes, he was being nosey. 

 

Dropping in was easier then Sascha expected, since it wasn't hard to pick up on the topic of conversation despite missing the first half of the beginning sentence.

 

"...Pressing charges?" The manager spoke almost in confusion, tilting his head as his arms hid behind his back. 

 

Stefanos didn't immediately respond, but Sascha could see from around the column that he shook his head. 

 

"I'm not, I don't need to." 

 

"Sir, you do understand that I'm obligated to call the police," He says, a small frown on his face, "We have to report any and all domestic issues-" 

 

"Please-" Stefanos's voice shook slightly as he had to had to stop for a moment, looking at the man with a slightly frightened expression, "Please don't. I just fell, he didn't do anything wrong. I swear." 

 

The manager noticed, slightly opening his mouth as if to speak but he slowly closed it again. Reluctantly, he nods. 

 

"Alright, please just be more careful, okay?" The man says quite gently, giving Stef a brief pat on the shoulder, "If you need anything, just call."

 

Stefanos smiled almost in relief, nodding his head as he let out a sigh, "I will, I will. Thank you."

 

Despite the smile, he still did not appear to be happy at all. It was as if he'd just gotten out of a worse situation by downplaying the severity of the first one. 

 

Only then did Sascha notice the slightly reddened mark of a bruise on the side of his neck. In fact, there were a number of bruises on his arms as well; though most were faded and hardly visible. 

 

Everything about Stef's demeanour was off, like he was scared to say something wrong. 

 

To slip up. 

 

It made him feel anxious  _for_  him.

 

Before Sascha even realised it, Stefanos had turned around and quickly walked to the elevator while pulling up a contact on his phone. 

 

The German wanted to continue listening, so he followed, but did so in the most casual way possible. Stefanos didn't even really notice. 

 

He simply pressed the button for the seventh floor.

 

Sascha didn't try to hide, considering he was taller, pretending to look at something on his phone as the Greek started talking to someone. 

 

"Hey, uh," Stefanos hesitates as he glances to the side, seeing Sascha not paying attention, "I have to stay with you tonight." 

 

Sascha couldn't hear the other person very well. 

 

"I just-" Stef, once again, falters as he turns around, dropping his tone, "Please, Fred, just for one night. I don't want to bother my dad."

 

That surprised him a bit. Clearly, he was very close with his dad, so why was he so worried about bothering him?

 

This time, he did hear the person on the other end, because they were yelling now; French accent thick on their words.

 

"What did Nick do to you?" 

 

" _Nothing_ ," Stef accidentally raised his voice as well, having to use one hand to cover his face and take a deep breath, "He didn't  _do_  anything." 

 

"I know when you're lying Stef, if he hurt you again I swe-"

 

Stefanos hung up in the middle of his sentence. 

 

He made no effort to hide a loud, angry groan that escaped, clutching his phone so tightly that his hand was shaking. 

 

Sascha tried to not look, but couldn't help but make it known. Stefanos had a hand over his eyes, using some sort of breathing exercise to calm himself down.

 

"You okay?" asks Sascha, unable to hide his slight concern. 

 

"What do you think?!" Stefanos retorted with a raised voice, even more frustrated now that he'd been interrupted. 

 

Sascha instantly regretted asking.

 

"Sorry, I just-"

 

"Just mind your own fucking business." 

 

Stefanos was so incredibly stressed out, he couldn't even think straight. 

 

Sascha may have found it rude, but considering the circumstances, he could understand why he was acting that way. The second the doors opened, he rushed out; suddenly wishing he'd never gotten involved. 

 

For now, he'd just count his blessings that it wouldn't be his issue now. 

 

**

 

 

God, was he stupid.

 

Of course he wasn't getting out of this, it was Sascha's luck. 

 

Despite having many choice words to say about Stefanos, he found himself feeling terrible about it all. 

 

He'd been so childish, not thinking for two seconds about the things that had happened before. 

 

Sascha  _knew_  what was going on but, like an idiot, decided that it wasn't his problem because he wasn't the one dating Nick.

 

It wasn't his boyfriend, therefore, not his cross to bear. 

 

Looking back on it, he had to reassure himself that there really was nothing he could've done anyway.

 

At least, that's what Sascha told himself to feel less guilty. 

 

He did feel a bit better having admitted to Nick's affair, but not as good as he should've. Sascha still felt partially responsible. 

 

That exchange in Miami was the most he'd spoken to him in 2018, hardly interacting with him before and after that despite having played him roughly three or four times. 

 

Sascha was bad at  _minding his own business_. 

 

Everyone in his family hated how nosey he was, there was no such thing as a secret in the Zverev household thanks to him. 

 

Yet the one time that it would've benefitted someone else, Sascha didn't want to even think about it. 

 

In that aspect, he was selfish. 

 

It didn't matter if he regretted it now, because he still fucked up. 

 

He had a hand in this and all he could do was try to fix it. 

 

After what felt like hours, his phone rang. 

 

Apostolos was returning his phone call. 

 

His inability to mind his own was at least coming in handy now. 

 

Sascha picked up the phone, answering and putting it up to his ear.

 

"Hello?" The voice on the other end speaks with a heavy Greek accent. 

 

"Hi, you're Stefanos's dad, right?" Sascha asks, though he already knows the answer is a yes.

 

"I am," Apostolos almost seems reluctant to answer, which signalled that he knew who was on the other end, "Do you need anything?"

 

"I do, actually," Sascha responds in the calmest tone possible, so as not to alarm him in any way, "I know Stefanos and I haven't-" 

 

Stop lying. 

 

He let out a short sigh.

 

"I know  _I_  haven't been very kind or fair towards him, but there's something going on and I just need some answers." 

 

There was a brief silence. 

 

"Is it about Nick?"

 

That just confirmed that the issue was a big one. 

 

"It is."

 

"There isn't much to say, Nick and Stefanos are very, very..." Apostolos trailed off, trying to think of the word in English. Luckily, it came to him. "Turbulent." 

 

"Do you know why it turned into- into  _that_."

 

Another silence. 

 

"Stefanos never really explained why. All he said was that he never felt good enough, that what he was doing wasn't enough for him."

 

"Well, did something change?"

 

"A lot changed, Nick changed and so did Stef. Neither of them are the same. Stef isn't the same anymore, and that's the only thing that I cared about." 

 

That struck Sascha as a bit odd, Stefanos didn't seem too different from Miami to Washington. 

 

"He changed? Changed how?"

 

"Before I answer that, I want to know why you're asking? I didn't think you cared about him."

 

"Something-" Sascha tried to think of a way to word it, but didn't want to sugarcoat it, so he went out with it instead, "Something happened with them and I just need to know why and how it happened. I want to help him." 

 

Apostolos took a second to process it. Though he wasn't surprised, he didn't know anything had happened. 

 

Stefanos truly had changed and that went the extra mile to prove it. 

 

"Is he okay?" 

 

"As okay as he can be."

 

"How bad is it?"

 

"...Nick punched him in the face. It knocked him out." 

 

A shaky sigh was barely audible on the other end of the phone, as well as a small murmur of something in Greek.

 

"I'll be there soon. Is he with you?"

 

"No, he's with his physio now but he stayed with me overnight. He went to see Nick earlier." 

 

"As long as he isn't near that terrible boy now, it's alright. Please, when you see him, tell him that I'll be there soon."

 

"I will, I promise."

 

"...Alexander, I don't know how to help my son." Apostolos admits, almost like he's ashamed. "Nick wasn't like this when I first met him. He had a bad reputation but he was always so lovely to Julia and me, and he loved Stefanos. I don't know what happened."

 

Sascha almost didn't know how to respond, because it never occurred to him that this had been going on for even longer than he'd seen before. "Did you ever see them argue?"

 

"Yes, many times. When Nick came to the Rogers Cup, he got into a fight with Stef because he booked a different hotel than him. Stefanos wouldn't let me say anything though, he begged me to leave for ten minutes and said that he'd handle it." 

 

"Did he?"

 

Apostolos didn't immediately answer, like he was contemplating saying anything, "Not exactly." 

 

"Did Nick...?"

 

"Stef wouldn't tell me what he did, but Nick choked him. I know he did." 

 

That did it. Sascha was shocked. 

 

"No-" Sascha didn't even know how to respond to that, "Oh my god."

 

"You asked me how he's changed, that's how," Apostolos explained, as it now came back together, "He used to be able to tell me anything, but he lies about what goes on with him and Nick." 

 

"Well, he must be scared."

 

"He is, he's more scared than you realise, Alex."

 

That was probably true. 

 

"How do you think I can help him?"

 

A short moment of silence fell before Apostolos spoke up, with very simple but incredibly serious words. 

 

"Keep him away from Nick." 

 

"How do I-"

 

"It's doesn't matter how you do it, Alex, you have to do it somehow." 

 

Sascha pursed his lips into a tight line, pressing his palm against his forehead. 

 

"Alright." 

 

"Thank you, really, I wish I could be there," Apostolos spoke genuinely, audibly shifting with noise in the background, "My flight is boarding right now, but I should arrive in eight hours." 

 

"Okay, have a safe flight." 

 

Apostolos said another brief thank you, saying he'd talk later before hanging up. Sascha pulled the phone away from his ear to go through the process of taking in what he'd just learned.

 

He was lucky that Stefanos's dad was so willing to talk, perhaps simply out of desperation due to it being a heavily guarded secret. 

 

It was not unknown that Nick and Stef were dating, they never tried to hide it, but the abuse within the relationship was. 

 

It seemed that only Stef's family and his team knew; and now the Zverev brothers.

 

Mischa only knew because he'd been there when Sascha found Stef, and because Sascha couldn't keep his mouth shut long enough to not tell him. 

 

The objective now was to do what Apostolos had asked him to do. 

 

Unknown to him, however, he'd already failed in doing as he was told.

 

__

 

 

There he was, back in that seemingly cursed hotel room. 

 

Stefanos had been waiting for nearly thirty minutes despite having used the hotel's phone to call Nick. He was honestly worried that he wouldn't show. 

 

Luckily, there was a tv in the room so he watched the only show he knew on the menu; hoping that he wasn't waiting for naught. 

 

The show served its purpose of passing time and keeping Stefanos from falling asleep, as the door opening immediately caused him to perk up. 

 

Nick walked in, dropping his tennis bag on the ground as he looked over at Stefanos.

 

His expression didn't change. 

 

"Hey," says Nick, obviously not willing to carry the conversation. He had his phone in hand. 

 

"Hey, Nick," Stefanos responds with a similar expression, shifting in his spot on the bed, "Could you sit down for a second? I have to talk to you about something." 

 

There was no covering up how nervous he was, Nick noticing it right away as his eyebrow rose somewhat. Despite that, he took a seat at the end of the bed. 

 

"Listen, I-" He falters in his speech, unknowingly biting down on his lip. Stefanos didn't know how to speak suddenly. "I know about Ajla and-"

 

"You what?"

 

"I know you're with Ajla but-"

 

"How the fuck- who the fuck told you?" Nick raises his voice, making no effort to cover up that it was true. 

 

"It doesn't matter, but I don't care. If you're happy with her, then we'll break up." 

 

Stefanos thinks he's being reasonable, handling the situation well until Nick starts getting visibly angry. 

 

"Who  _told_  you?"

 

"Why does it matter?"

 

"Because you weren't supposed to know! That's the fucking point!"

 

"So I was just supposed to stay with you while you're off fucking someone else? That doesn't seem very fair to me-"

 

"Maybe if you actually slept with me then I wouldn't have to go to someone else to get it!"

 

Stefanos's eyes widened at that, looking at him as if he were completely insane. "You're saying it's  _my_  fault that you're cheating on me? Because I said I wouldn't have sex with you?"

 

Nick let out an irritated laugh, shaking his head, "Wow, you're really fucking smart aren't you?"

 

"You knew when I started dating you that I wouldn't do that, you said you were fine with it!"

 

"Well, I lied, I thought that I could change your mind but clearly that didn't happen-"

 

This conversation wasn't turning out how Stef originally expected it to. He didn't know what to do now. 

 

"Did-" Stefanos kept his eyes fixed on Nick as he put his hands up, almost in defeat, "Did you ever love me, Nick?" 

 

Even Nick had to pause for a second. A small smile, though not a happy one, formed on his lips as he looked Stefanos in the eyes. He didn't immediately speak, rather stood up from his spot and took a few steps towards Stef. 

 

The Greek sank back a bit, Nick now practically looming over him threateningly. 

 

He was close enough to catch a small scent of his cologne. 

 

"I don't know why you bother asking me that," Nick speaks lowly, though no one else is in the room, with his hand taking hold of Stef's jaw roughly, "You already know the answer." 

 

Stefanos didn't know the answer, he thought it was a yes but now he wasn't sure. His mouth was so dry that he couldn't muster a word, just shaking his head very slightly. 

 

His hands were trembling, as was his body. 

 

Nick didn't stop looking at him, tightening his grip that was bordering on painful. "I might've at one point, but not for very long. You were just something nice to look at."

 

A small scoff left the Australian, his expression shifting to one of near disgust. 

 

"And now look at you." 

 

Stefanos wanted to start crying, but his body wouldn't let him. His face was still emotionless despite feeling as though he'd been stabbed. Like he was dying. 

 

"That's what I am," Stefanos managed a few words, despite them being weak and quiet, "I'm just...a trophy." 

 

"You  _were_  a trophy." Nick's tone dropped even more, turning darker as his anger started to flood back. "You're lucky you were even that at one point. I would've thought that your achievements would make up for it, but instead, you won a worthless title and an award that means nothing." 

 

"Nick, I loved you," The Greek tried to put emphasis on that, "That has to count for something."

 

It was obvious that, for once, Nick was trying to hold back the urge to do something physically, clenching his teeth for a moment before shaking his head. He was yelling now, "Get a grip! It doesn't mean fucking anything! Do you hear what you're saying?!"

 

Stefanos was lost, eyes somewhat glazed as he listened to him. Suddenly, however, it didn't hurt. He felt numb, empty. 

 

There were so many things he could say: use aggression and shout, say 'fuck you' and end it completely, but he didn't want to do that. 

 

He simply said the one phrase that he'd seemingly said every day for the past year. 

 

"I'm sorry." 

 

That was all it took. 

 

Thinking the worst, Stefanos simply closed his eyes and waited. 

 

 

And waited.

 

 

And waited.

 

 

Nothing happened. 

 

 

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes, only to realise that Nick had let go of his face. The Australian looked just as lost as he himself did. 

 

The silence settled around them, Stefanos too nervous to speak up. 

 

Nick's lips briefly parted, as if he wanted to say something. The words didn't come out, but he read his movements. 

 

_I'm sorry._

 

Stefanos couldn't believe it. 

 

Only one thing could accurately describe Nick, and that was the character of Dr Jekyll. 

 

Right now, he saw Dr Jekyll, but he was certain that Mr Hyde would return soon. 

 

Without thinking, Stefanos pulled him into a kiss. 

 

It felt like the first time, and it had been so long since it felt like that. 

 

Nick returned it, letting Stef pull away and press their foreheads together. 

 

Even after everything, Stefanos still loved him. 

 

When he thought about Nick, he was convinced that he was the love of his life. No matter what, he'd always care about him.

 

He would _always_ love him. 

 

" _Please_ ," Stefanos softly murmured, eyes closed, "Be happy with her. Be good to her, because she's so, _so_ lucky to have you."

 

A piece of Nick wanted to protest, he didn't want them to break up. Dr Jekyll wanted to prove that he loved him, and Mr Hyde didn't want to lose the only way he could vent his anger.

 

Dr Jekyll, however, knew fully that he wasn't there as often to prove himself. 

 

Nick cracked a smile, slipping a hand into his long, curly hair for what would likely be the last time. 

 

He pulled back and gave Stefanos's forehead a small kiss, reluctantly drawing his hand away. 

 

Even Stefanos had a small smile on his face, but still, he felt nothing. 

 

Nick briefly mumbled something about getting his things, which would mean that he'd leave Stef the room but he quickly had to tell him that he'd already booked another one.

 

That was a lie, as he'd be staying in Fred's room until his dad got back. 

 

He just didn't want to stay in that godforsaken room.

 

So rather than Nick gathering his things, Stefanos had already done so and took everything with him. In a way, it made things a little easier but not by much.

 

By the time he'd gotten to Frederic's room, he was holding back the tears from earlier. 

 

Stefanos dropped his bags, crawled into bed and started sobbing. 

 

It was too late to go back and not even ten minutes had passed, but somehow he was regretting his decision. 

 

He wanted Nick, but nothing he could do would make Nick feel the same.

 

Feeling as though he'd been completely drained from all energy actually worked out in his favour, because he fell asleep almost two minutes from laying down. 

 

The remaining tears that the pillowcase hadn't wicked away eventually dried as he slept rather soundly. 

 

 

 

That, in itself, was a miracle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you lot enjoyed this chapter xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you lot enjoy this chapter!! xx

 

**

 

 

Only a few weeks before Stefanos's favourite Grand Slam and he'd done seemingly no preparation; instead deciding to sightsee with his family.

 

Queens Club was a tournament Stefanos wasn't originally slated to play for singles but he decided to come up with a fun idea. 

 

Nick was playing there.

 

Stefanos liked to play doubles, and the warm up would be useful. Frederic didn't exactly encourage it, but he didn't discourage it either.

 

Nick ended up liking the idea, so he managed to get a late entry into the doubles draw. They'd be playing British wildcards in the first round. 

 

They practised together that morning, even though Stefanos was late getting up after having stayed up until one in the morning the night before. 

 

Apostolos was only there for half of the warm-up, going back to the hotel to get something to eat and leaving the two to hit. 

 

The day was actually very standard, at least for a Kyrgios hitting session. 

 

Having hit with many, many people in the past, Stefanos concluded that he hated hitting with Nick the most. 

 

Surprisingly, Nick hadn't hit him even once yet, but the Greek wasn't willing to be less on edge for fear of one of the Aussie's serves coming directly at him. 

 

Of course, he jinxed himself.

 

When he turned around briefly to grab his towel, something hard and incredibly fast struck him in the back. 

 

It hurt, a lot.

 

That had to be an almost 195 kph serve, if Stef had to guess.

 

Stefanos let out a short groan when it hit him, shakily crouching with his forehead pressed against the grip of his racquet. 

 

He could hear Nick chuckling from the other side of the court.

 

"Sorry, Steffi," Nick says mockingly, walking up to the net to look over at him, "Did I hurt you?"

 

Stefanos didn't want to respond because the pain was intense, very slowly standing up and pressing his hand into the injured area.

 

When he faced Nick, he saw the smile he had on his face. 

 

It was a big joke to him.

 

The Greek flashed a smile of his own, but it was quite wry.

 

"Didn't even feel it."

 

Nick scoffed, clicking his tongue before straightening up a bit. That mean, almost sadistic smile didn't go anywhere. "Clearly, I didn't hit it hard enough then."

 

Honestly, it sounded like a challenge Nick was making for himself. 

 

Stefanos couldn't hide a slightly nervous sigh that left him, the pain in his back turning into a slight burning sensation now. 

 

He wasn't surprised, nothing surprised him anymore. Not with Nick, at least. 

 

Nick was the most predictable person Stefanos knew. 

 

With that knowledge in mind, he put his towel to his left instead of behind him. 

 

Stefanos wasn't going to make himself an easy target like that. 

 

__

 

 

Despite the cautionary measures, Stefanos was hit with five more balls that session. They even nearly got into a fight on-court for that very reason, but Apostolos came back and broke it up. 

 

Now, they were finishing up at the gym.

 

Stefanos had taken a shower, gotten changed and was sat in the locker room; waiting for Nick. 

 

He also took a glance in the mirrors when he got out of the shower, which confirmed his suspicion that the marks were starting to bruise already.

 

Like Stefanos needed any more bruises to add to the surplus he already had. 

 

Above everything else, it frustrated him. 

 

Bruises meant weakness, and Stefanos was  _not_  weak. 

 

Nick just happened to be stronger and not afraid to take his anger out by physical means.

 

Stefanos felt like a punching bag most of the time. It was exhausting, but there were no other solutions to their issues.

 

So, he'd let it go. 

 

Just as his head managed to float up into another dimension, Nick walked in from the shower room and was talking to him. 

 

It didn't sound very important, but the Australian didn't seem to agree. 

 

He took Stefanos by the jaw and snapped him out of his daze without warning. 

 

"Are you even listening to me?"

 

Stefanos blinked a few times, looking at Nick with glazed eyes before fully coming back to reality. 

 

"Sorry-" He frowned slightly as he managed to pull Nick's hand away by the wrist, "I zoned out, what were you saying?"

 

"Of course you weren't fucking listening," Nick grumbles, glaring at him as he walked past the bench Stefanos was sitting on. He fumbled with his lock and opened the locker, grabbing his clothes. 

 

"Nick, I didn't mean to," Stefanos tries to explain as he turns around, "You can't expect me to just pay attention constantly, no one else was here."

 

Nick ignored him, grumbling to himself lowly; something about how he never listens. Now Stefanos was getting a bit worried.

 

"Nick, please don't do that."

 

Still, he ignored him.

 

Stefanos shifted uncomfortably, teeth sinking into his lower lip nervously as he watched him fuss with his clothes in hand. 

 

Nick was getting dressed, not giving him another glance as he did so.

 

"Please, Nick." 

 

Still, there were no words coming from the Australian, until the one phrase that set him off left the Greek's lips. 

 

"I'm sorry." 

 

He was fully dressed then, all branded in Nike with a towel draped around his neck. 

 

Without even a moment of hesitation, Nick took hold of Stefanos by the hair and slammed his head into the locker. 

 

Nick managed so much force that there was a dent left behind when the younger of the pair dropped onto the floor.

 

It hurt so badly that Stefanos didn't actually feel much of anything, aside from a slight headache with a very, very loud ringing in his ears. 

 

Though, it felt like it was inside his head, echoing back and forth.

 

That noise was more painful than the actual impact. 

 

Once again, Stefanos felt a tug on his hair and a piece of him wished he'd had cut it shorter when he'd gotten the chance. Nick pulled him up as he leaned down. 

 

"You're walking home." 

 

Nick's tone was very, very serious but also very calm. It was an angry calm. 

 

Stefanos didn't know the way back to the hotel, since he didn't know the area but he was too scared to try and change his mind. 

 

Just his luck, he'd left his wallet back there too.

 

Frederic, however, had a rental car and Stef had his phone. 

 

So, Stefanos simply nods slightly, hoping Nick would just let go of him and leave; which he does. 

 

The moment Nick is out the door, the Greek is quick to retrieve his phone from his jacket pocket and call Fred. 

 

Frederic doesn't hesitate to pick him up, albeit with nothing but bad things to say about Nick on the drive back to the hotel.

 

While Stefanos was in the car, he made another phone call. 

 

More specifically, a phone call to the Queens Club tournament director. 

 

__

 

 

Out of spite, Nick forced Stefanos to stay with his father for the evening as he basically put his things outside of the door. 

 

At that point, Stefanos didn't actually care. He was glad that he'd be away for a little while.

 

That brief peace didn't last, however, come morning it turned into No Man's Land. 

 

At breakfast, Nick managed to start their one of their two public fights.

 

Stefanos sat at a table in the hotel with Frederic and Apostolos, trying to enjoy the morning despite the absolutely splitting headache he still had. 

 

Having not even gotten through one-fourth of what he ordered, Nick came and grabbed him by the arm without a warning.

 

"We have to talk,  _now_." 

 

Nick spoke angrily, not afraid to dig his fingers into Stefanos's arm to emphasize that it had to happen immediately. 

 

"We can talk here." 

 

"No, we're talking somewhere else. Get up." 

 

"And if I say no?" 

 

In his peripheral vision, Nick could see Apostolos staring at him. It was dangerous territory and there was no chance he'd get away with anything so long as Stef's dad was there. 

 

Nick gritted his teeth, managing a tighter hold on him with a small tug.

 

"I didn't ask you a question, now get up."

 

His voice somehow became angrier, but quieter at the same time. It was close to a whisper now. 

 

"No. If you have something, then say it now."

 

Stefanos wasn't in the mood to be dealing with this so early in the morning. ( At the time, he'd still had a bit of fight left. )

 

Nick wasn't backing off either, "You cancelled the fucking doubles and never told me."

 

The Greek slowly nodded, shrugging his shoulders. "And? Yeah, I did. I don't want to play with you."

 

"What, because we got into an argument yesterday?" Nick almost laughed, shaking his head, "Did I hurt your feelings or something?"

 

"You slammed my fucking head into a locker and you're asking if you hurt my  _feelings_?" Stefanos scoffed as he roughly pulled his arm away, resisting the urge to shove him, "You're a fucking prick."

 

"You're the bitch that pissed me off, don't try and blame this on me."

 

"Nick, I think you should leave." Apostolos cut in, looking far more upset than the two of them combined. His hand tightly clutched his own arm as if to keep himself from doing something he'd regret.

 

Nick glared in his direction, hand tightening into a fist before it unfurled after a few deep breaths. 

 

"Fine," The Australian caves, still shaking his head as he looked at Stefanos with an equally nasty glare, "Didn't realise Stephanie  _still_  needs daddy's protection, but whatever." 

 

Apostolos bit back all the words he could say, refusing to move his gaze away until Nick left.

 

"Fuck you." 

 

Stefanos couldn't resist his own angry response, finding that to be one of the most infuriating things that Nick said to him.

 

He could take care of himself, he was a grown fucking man; nineteen years old for Christ's sake.

 

Nick disregarded it, actually getting a laugh as he stayed true to his word and left. 

 

The youngest Greek's hands were shaking, mostly from anger but also from the foreshadowing in his head of what could follow later. 

 

That hadn't crossed his mind, but it definitely did now. 

 

His dad leaned over, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Are you okay?"

 

Stefanos didn't want to alarm his dad, so he just flashed him a small smile with a nod, "I am, I'll be fine." 

 

Apostolos knew he was lying, and Stef knew that he knew it. 

 

Lying, in Stefanos's head, was a better alternative to telling the truth when it came to Nick.

 

**

 

 

All the memories that came to him seemed to be the bad ones now, having woken up after his hour-long nap. 

 

Stefanos stayed in bed, the duvet tugged up to his chin as he hid under and blankly stared at the curtains that seemed to lifelessly hang to one side. 

 

He could relate to those curtains.

 

Their lifelessness.

 

Their dark, dull colour. 

 

Their worthlessness. 

 

They had a purpose, that was the only thing he couldn't relate to. 

 

After aimlessly wandering through 2018, Stefanos suddenly felt like he didn't have a purpose at all. 

 

He felt like rubbish, the sort you find when you're walking down the street and spot it on the ground.

 

If he could have a choice, he'd press the reset button, go back a day or two and make things how they were. 

 

Being with Nick made him feel like he meant something.

 

That he wasn't just floating around, existing without meaning. 

 

Stefanos had managed to cry himself completely out of tears, having to settle with his staring contest against the defending champion; the lifeless, dull drapery. 

 

Ashamed wasn't a strong enough word to describe how he felt about himself.

 

Disgusted. 

 

He was absolutely disgusted with himself. 

 

_How could a human be so stupid and disgusting?_

 

_How could a human-_

 

_No, how could Stefanos be so utterly stupid and absolutely disgusting, repulsive even?_

 

Stefanos had many questions like those, with the number of answers still being zero.

 

_Nick deserved better._

 

_Nick deserves Ajla, someone who can actually make him happy._

 

_Of all the people in the world, Nick chose Stefanos, and what did Stefanos do?_

 

_Stefanos ruined it, just like he does everything else._

 

_He should've tried to be better for Nick, instead of trying to help Nick._

 

_It wasn't Nick's fault that Stefanos pissed him off constantly, that Nick hit him an immeasurable number of times._

 

If Stefanos hadn't run himself out of tears, he knew he would've started crying again.

 

Once again, the curtains won the contest.

 

Dejected, Stefanos turned to his other side and let the duvet shield his vision from the outside world. 

 

One of the few good memories he could remember came back, but did so as if to haunt him.

 

To torture him and the stupid mistake he'd made in breaking things off.

 

 

**

 

 

Off-season 2017.

 

Nick took a bit of time out of his off-season training to come to Greece for a week, mostly to spend some time with Stefanos before the Australian swing started. 

 

The Tsitsipas house was where he'd be staying, sharing Stef's room with him; as well as a bed. His parents didn't mind, he was nineteen after all.

 

Not a child anymore, even though Nick liked to call him one. 

 

It was around two in the afternoon and they'd finished lunch by then, Stefanos suggesting that they take a hike. Just the two of them. 

 

Julia chimed in, saying what a good idea it was. 

 

The sky was mostly clear, bright blue and the temperature was around 19. 

 

Absolutely perfect.

 

Nick agreed happily, saying that he'd just have to pick up something from the shop before they went. 

 

Stefanos, being Stefanos, wanted to invite one of his siblings, but they were all doing other things that day. Elisavet was going to a friend's house, Paul doing the same and Petros being in Tunisia for an ITF Futures event. 

 

Secretly, Nick was glad, he just wanted an hour alone with him. 

 

They set out for their adventure, Stefanos with his backpack over his shoulder with his camera and drone. Nick just had his wallet and phone.

 

Down the street from their starting point was a petrol station. 

 

While they walked, Nick stopped in at the station; using his very mediocre knowledge of Greek to buy a few things. Though, he didn't tell Stefanos what.

 

"You'll know when we get to the top."

 

That answer would have to be satisfying until they did just that.

 

The hike took around thirty minutes, since the mountain ( Stefanos calls it that, at least ) was quite high. 

 

Once they were at the top, however, the view was well worth it.

 

From that height, you could see Athens city, the bright Mediterranean sea and every sight there was to behold. 

 

Nick looked over at Stefanos, the sight of how genuinely happy he looked warming his heart in ways he thought weren't even possible. 

 

It was one of the cutest things on the planet. 

 

He just had to pull him a bit closer and kiss his cheek. 

 

"This is your happy place, isn't it?"

 

Stefanos's smile widened a touch more, looking at him with a nod.

 

"How'd you guess?"

 

"Your face gives it away," Nick laughed as he brushed his knuckles against his cheek, "It's adorable."

 

Stefanos just rolled his eyes as he shook his head, shrugging his bag off his shoulder and placing it on the bench. "Says you, the cutest person I know."

 

Nick pulled away to let him unzip his bag, though he had the plastic bag from the shop still in hand. 

 

"So," The Greek speaks as he takes his camera out, setting it aside to grab his drone, "What's in the bag?"

 

"Oh, this bag?" Nick responds jokingly, gesturing towards Stef's bag, "Or the other one?"

 

"The other one, obviously." Stefanos chuckled as he stood up straight, arms folded over his chest. 

 

Nick hums with a small nod, taking a seat on the bench that wasn't taken up by camera gear; pulling out what hid inside. 

 

Inexplicably, it was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. 

 

With a raised eyebrow, Stefanos looked at the small carton before glancing back at Nick. "And who are those for?"

 

"They're for us," The Australian clarifies, ignoring the warning labels that he couldn't read that covered the outside, "We're living the Greek stereotype, might as well go with it." 

 

He wasn't entirely wrong, Greek people were very fond of their cigarettes. 

 

"This is because I told you that I don't drink, isn't it?" 

 

A smile found it's way on Stefanos's face, almost finding it funny. 

 

"May-be," Nick smirked, looking quite boyishly mischevious, "You're too good, you have to do something bad every once in a while. It keeps you sane." 

 

Stefanos scoffed. 

 

"You know," The Greek started, crouching in front of the bench to set up his drone, "My schoolmates and I used to go out to the beach during lunch and we would smoke." 

 

That was a bit surprising, being that Apostolos and Julia both said what a good, responsible kid he was in school. 

 

"And if I say I don't believe you?"

 

"Well, then I'd show you a picture Alexios took of us to prove it." 

 

"Then when we get off this hill-"

 

"Mountain." Stefanos corrects him.

 

"When we get off this  _mountain_ , you're going to have to show me," Nick emphasizes, smiling as he couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Here."

 

Nick leaned over to hand him a cigarette, watching him take it between his lips. Once it was securely there, he lit the end for him. 

 

It brought back quite a few memories, even though his lungs couldn't take the smoke like it could when he was eleven. 

 

Stefanos didn't cough very much at all, however, he watched Nick cough the second he breathed it in. A slight snicker formed on his face. 

 

"So, this was your idea?"

 

Through his coughs, Nick told him to shut up as he pushed him lightly with his foot. Stefanos just laughed in response, taking a drag from the cigarette before blowing out a cloud of smoke. 

 

"At least these are decent ones, the stuff Gianni's dad bought was cheap." 

 

"How can you even tell cheap cigarettes from good ones?"

 

"The fact that you even asked that proves that this is the first time you've smoked." Stefanos teased lightly as he burned it out against the rocks, pulling the end off before dropping it into his pocket. 

 

Nick noticed that, furrowing his brows slightly in confusion.

 

"Why didn't you just toss it? That's a pretty expensive jacket."

 

"I don't like leaving stuff like that up here, it messes up the grass."

 

He hadn't even thought about that. It made sense. 

 

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the drone was fully set up and Stefanos moved his things off of the bench to sit beside Nick. 

 

By then, Nick had given up on the smoking, seeing as it was just giving him a headache. 

 

He wondered how Stef could smoke but yet not get addicted, it was like some hidden talent. 

 

Didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't get involved in any drugs or even bothered with sex.

 

Instead, he got excited over cameras, nice clothes, philosophy and photography.

 

He was even more fussy about his hair than his younger sister sometimes.

 

It was almost nauseating how perfect he was. 

 

Now there they were, Stefanos raising his drone up into the sky over Vouliagmeni and sending it off to get enough footage for one of his videos. 

 

Nick had an arm around his shoulders, tangling his hand into his hair as his head found a spot against Nick's. 

 

The scenery was so gorgeous, Nick got lost in the view and the sound of the breeze. Even from that far up, the wind carried the scent of the ocean. 

 

Stefanos was looking at the screen, seeing where the drone was hovering before putting the remote down for a moment. 

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, moving one of his free hands to clasp Nick's with intertwined fingers.

 

Both of them indulged in the soft sounds of the Greek nature before Stefanos spoke up.

 

"Nick?"

 

"Hm?"

 

Stefanos paused as he shifted slightly closer, "I'm not going to scare you off if I ask you anything about marriage or the future, right?"

 

"Depends," Nick responds with an eyebrow raised, a small smile on his face, "You're not going to kill me for insurance money, are you?"

 

"Well, I wasn't planning to," The Greek laughs, nudging him lightly, "but now that you mention it..." 

 

Nick couldn't help but ruffle his hair, having a little chuckle as well. "You're not going to 'scare me off', you can ask me anything." 

 

After a few beats of silence, the drone came flying back as Stef landed it on the ground in front of them. He put the remote down on the bench beside himself before sighing. 

 

"Do you want a family?" 

 

"Of course."

 

"...Would you ever want a family with me?"

 

That caused Nick to tilt his head a bit, still running his hand through his hair soothingly. 

 

"I haven't done anything to make you think I wouldn't, I hope."

 

"No, you haven't I just...wonder." 

 

"Well you don't have to worry about that, I'd love to have one with you one day. Marriage, kids, dealing with other parents criticising our parenting, all of it."

 

"You-" Stefanos nearly sounded surprised, "You would actually marry me?"

 

"Of course, that's a big part of family after all."

 

"We'd have to get married in Australia, you know. Gay marriage isn't recognised by Greek law." 

 

"Then we'd get married in Australia, or anywhere else, doesn't matter. We have time to think about it, all that matters is that we're ready and it's about us."

 

"Sorry for bringing it up, it just...kind of popped into my head." 

 

"Don't apologise, it's a nice thing to think about. For all you know, I could've come all the way up here to propose to you."

 

Stefanos opened his eyes when he said that, looking at him in curiosity. "Did you?"

 

Nick shrugs his shoulders in response, looking up at the sky with a vaguely sheepish smile. "Perhaps."

 

"So, no." The Greek rolled his eyes before closing them again, giving Nick's hand a gentle squeeze. "I've been told that I look nice in both silver and gold, just in case you couldn't decide."

 

"I'll keep that in mind," Nick pulled him a little closer before pressing a kiss against his temple, "Maybe I'll just get you an engagement teddy bear to make things easy."

 

"I think I like that idea the most."

 

"Then, if a teddy bear shows up in your room mysteriously..." Nick teases, letting his free hand leave Stef's hair to rest on his shoulder. 

 

"I'll be on the first plane to Australia." Stefanos nods as if promising, drawing the Australian's hand that was joined with his own up to his lips; kissing the back of it with a smile. "The bear is coming with me too."

 

**

 

 

He did, in fact, get a bear while beginning his 2018 season in Australia. Not only did Stefanos get a bear, but he also got a necklace with it too.

 

It was the exact same cross that Nick wore all the time, though it wasn't his; just the same style. 

 

Stefanos wore it all the time. Even now, as he lay in bed, it hung around his neck. 

 

Nick seemed happy for the first two months, and Stefanos found himself daydreaming about his own wedding that seemed so close. 

 

It seemed so, so close. 

 

Until it wasn't.

 

Once upon a time, he travelled with that bear all the time. 

 

Nick abruptly called off the whole engagement, saying that Stefanos was jumping to absurd, unfounded conclusions just based off of a teddy bear.

 

So, in what seemed like retaliation at the time, Stefanos got rid of it; giving it away to a family friend. 

 

He regretted that now.

 

It used to smell like Nick, and he would spray it with his cologne when he missed him.

 

Nick had broken the only bottle of it he had left.

 

Everything just fell apart. 

 

Everything. 

 

Stefanos had to pull the duvet down to look at the bedside clock. 

 

Nearly four in the afternoon. 

 

He hadn't eaten since around eight that morning, but he wasn't hungry.

 

Not in the slightest. 

 

The door opened, but Stefanos didn't react. He didn't even bother to see who it was. 

 

Though, when they spoke, he knew who it was.

 

"You okay, Stef?"

 

It was Sascha. 

 

All Stefanos did in response was let out the slightest noise, pulling the covers up over his face. He didn't want to be around anyone, he couldn't even win a staring contest with some stupid curtains. 

 

The bed adjacent from the one he was laying in creaked a bit, which he assumed was Sascha sitting down. 

 

"Your dad is going to be here soon." 

 

Another brief groan of acknowledgement. 

 

Sascha could tell that this wouldn't be going anywhere. 

 

"I brought you something to eat."

 

No response. 

 

The German moved to stand up, only having to take one step before sitting back down right beside Stefanos. 

 

"Frederic gave it to me, he said you liked it."

 

"I'm not hungry."

 

"You haven't eaten since this morning, you're going to get sick."

 

"I don't care."

 

Sascha huffed, shaking his head as he looked at the vague form of the Greek that hid under the duvet. "You have to eat, I'm not leaving until you do."

 

Stefanos mumbled something inaudible, though it was probably in Greek, not moving at all for around a minute. 

 

True to his word, Sascha didn't budge either. 

 

When he realised this, Stefanos pulled the covers back just a bit to look at him. 

 

"Why do you care if I eat or not?" 

 

"Your dad told me to keep an eye you. I don't want you getting hurt."

 

He disappeared under the covers once again, turning onto his stomach while mumbling, "It's a little late for that."

 

Sascha watched and waited for a moment, before placing a hand on what would've been directly on his back. The duvet flattened a bit under his touch.

 

"Look, I'm sure it's rough but it'll be worse if you don't eat something. Just for your dad if no one else?"

 

Honestly, he was praying that would work. 

 

Stefanos had his face buried in the pillow, seeming to not want to get up. Sascha didn't move his hand, immediately noticing how uneven his breathing had become.

 

Before he even could ask what was wrong, it became painfully obvious that he'd started sobbing.

 

Apparently, the waterworks had exited their brief drought.

 

Now Stefanos felt like some stupid, teenage girl whose boyfriend just broke up with her.

 

Laying in bed, miserable, crying for almost two hours straight and no desire to do anything; especially not eat, he was too nauseous for that.

 

Sascha suddenly thought that it was his fault, that he was an asshole.  

 

He didn't know what to do. 

 

Luckily, Sascha didn't have to think too hard about it. Stefanos finally sat up, duvet resting on his shoulders as he turned to hug the other man without warning. 

 

That was the only thing Stefanos could think to do. 

 

Sascha couldn't think, so, he simply let his arms embrace the younger man with a hand rubbing soothing circles into his back. 

 

His face buried into the German's shoulder, the fabric of his shirt wicking away the tears. 

 

When Sascha had told him to break up with Nick, that wasn't the aftermath he was expecting. 

 

The only thing he could do was let Stefanos fully unload, which is exactly what he did. 


	5. Chapter 5

 

By some miracle, Stefanos found himself in the fourth round. It had been a few days since he'd ended everything with Nick, but the stress of it all only mounted. 

 

He'd managed to get back on track with his exercise schedule, as well as eating.

 

Eating was what he struggled with the most, he'd somehow lost almost two kilograms just by working out but hardly eating. 

 

It was what Stefanos always did when he was stressed; all work, no eating. 

 

Stefanos found himself constantly checking his phone, waiting for his match to come because it seemed to not be coming soon enough. 

 

He wanted to be out on court, to try and play his best tennis even if he didn't feel the best.

 

Elisavet helped him pass the time. 

 

They sat in the player's canteen and made TikToks together; her idea of course. 

 

She was an expert on cheering him up.

 

His whole family knew how to make him happy and he often wondered where he'd be without them.

 

For a split second, the word  _'_ dead' popped into his head and it unsettled him just as quickly. 

 

Briefly, he shook his head as if to shake it out of mind, though his sister didn't notice.

 

Stefanos told her he was going to get them some more sparkling water from the fridge and that he'd be right back. 

 

Standing up, he went over to the fridge that was right by the counter.

 

Players could flash their ID and get free food, it was honestly great; especially considering how good the food was.

 

He retrieved two bottles of sparkling water, before pausing and putting the second one back.

 

Instead of water, he grabbed a can of the sparkling fruit drink from the same brand.

 

Blood orange flavoured. 

 

Stefanos didn't even realise that he was standing there for so long, because the girl at the counter had to tell him to close the door. 

 

He just felt very out of sorts. 

 

The Greek apologised quickly, doing as he was told and turning around to walk back.

 

As he started his journey back, distantly, he could hear a familiar Australian accent talking from behind. 

 

No need to turn and look, he already knew it was Nick. 

 

Just hearing him made Stefanos feel as though he was going to be sick, and he was. 

 

Rushing now, he put the drinks down on the table in front of his sister before running off. 

 

Elisavet seemed to notice how odd he was acting now, but she couldn't follow. 

 

Stefanos managed to find the bathroom, quick to lock the door behind him but couldn't get to the toilet quite as fast. 

 

He threw up in the sink basin, holding his irritatingly long tresses out of his face as he leaned over the porcelain.

 

The couple of days post-breakup, Stefanos hadn't even caught the briefest glimpse of Nick; all he'd heard was that he got a new room on a different floor.

 

Blocking Nick on every social media platform didn't do much to help, because he couldn't bring himself to delete his contact in his phone.

 

Nick with the purple and gold hearts beside it.

 

There were so many voicemails in his inbox, some bad but others were nice.

 

He just couldn't do it.

 

He couldn't delete any of it. 

 

Fred told him to eat yoghurt because it'd help him sleep, but it didn't.

 

Stefanos spent the night lamenting his stupidity, crying over the pictures on his phone that they'd taken together in Greece. 

 

They both looked happy, but that was then.

 

Then was no longer now, even if he wanted it to be. 

 

Once again, he threw up.

 

Breathing heavy, bordering on hyperventilation, Stefanos's legs were becoming a bit unsteady. 

 

Before he would let himself nearly collapse, he washed his mouth out with water as the feeling in his hands faded and turned into pins and needles. 

 

Stefanos sank down to sit on the floor, hiding his face in his trembling hands and tried to calm down. 

 

He would never be able to explain why he was so scared, simply hearing Nick's voice behind him sending the Greek into a panic attack. 

 

It felt as though he'd just woken up from a nightmare, except no one was there to console him.

 

His throat was burning, chest absolutely aching with very little feeling anywhere else. 

 

Without thinking, Stefanos grabbed his phone from his pocket and fumbled just to find his dad's contact. 

 

He texted him, hoping that he'd be able to come down and do something to help him.

 

Stef would be playing a match in less than two hours and he couldn't be panicking like this beforehand. 

 

Apostolos didn't hesitate to say he'd be right there.

 

The amount of embarrassment he felt couldn't be measured.

 

At that point, he hated himself. 

 

Hated how he needed his father to come and bring him back to reality, lest he go off the deep end and do something stupid. 

 

They may not have told him, but his parents were worried that he'd become self-destructive.

 

Both Apostolos and Julia came down, having to knock a few times on the door for Stefanos to unlock it; which he did. 

 

When Julia came in, she immediately hugged her son tightly and asked what had happened. 

 

She was incredibly worried, especially with how shaky and unbalanced he was the moment she saw him.

 

Seeing him like that was difficult for her.

 

Stefanos found it hard to explain, only managing to get out the name of the person that triggered it. 

 

Apostolos had to lead him out of the bathroom and sit him down in the hallway.

 

Luckily, no one was out there.

 

His father knelt in front of him, talking entirely in Greek and asking him what happened. 

 

Stefanos didn't want to explain that nothing very remarkable had happened, only that he'd heard Nick's voice but he knew it wouldn't make sense. 

 

He was terrified. 

 

Terrified with no way to explain why. 

 

Julia understood more than Apostolos, convincing him to escort their son back to his room at the very least. 

 

"Just lay down and try to calm down, it'll help. I promise," She spoke gently, a hand cupping his cheek, "Don't think about anything else." 

 

Stefanos couldn't say no, he knew that she was right. He was an absolute mess.

 

He very slightly nodded his head, feeling twelve years old again.

 

Little twelve-year-old Stefanos would have acted the same way after losing a match, albeit with a lot more tears. 

 

Apostolos pulled him up, walking beside him the entire distance from the canteen to his room. 

 

He needed to be away from that area.

 

The match that was less than two hours away never found its way into his mind again, he just didn't think about it.

 

After his dad got confirmation that he'd be alright, he left him be to try and clear his head. 

 

Stefanos burrowed under the blankets like he had done so often those last few days, looking up at the ceiling with the dimness of the room helping to ease him somewhat. 

 

When his eyes closed, he remembered his match.

 

Karen Khachanov. 

 

Instead of acknowledging that he had no hope in beating Karen in his current condition, Stefanos made a promise to himself.

 

If he didn't win, he had to take at least one set off of him if not two. 

 

At least he could give him a run for his money instead of tanking it completely. 

 

 

__

 

 

Stefanos loses by retirement after winning the first set 7-5, down two breaks in the second 0-3.

 

He would've finished had the Australian summer not caught up with him first. 

 

Despite stealing the first set, the problems started when he broke 5-3; the heat started to fully affect him. 

 

It started with him walking to the wrong bench, then it progressed to him stumbling slightly going for his towel. 

 

Before he knew it, he'd slipped while running for a crosscourt forehand and severely scraped up his arm. 

 

The blood running down his arm didn't bother him, he finished the game without complaining. 

 

A trainer had already been sent out to wrap the wounds and stayed by, which turned out to be a good thing as halfway to his bench, he collapsed. 

 

His muscles were aching and cramping, face white as a sheet, dripping sweat and heart racing. 

 

The trainer didn't have to tell him that it was heat exhaustion, it was incredibly obvious.

 

Karen looked concerned, as did the whole Tsitsipas family that sat in the players' box. 

 

A piece of Stefanos was happy that he could leave.

 

That he could be out of the tournament without lying to withdraw or tanking to get out. 

 

His opponent walked over to check on him as he lay across the bench, shaking his hand and saying that he hopes he gets better soon.

 

Stefanos appreciated the kindness, but his mind couldn't fully process it.  

 

The sensation of the ice pressed against his arms couldn't have been received better, needing it pressed against his legs as well and the back of his neck.

 

When his heart rate went down and he could stand without toppling over, he could leave the court. 

 

Karen carried Stef's bags into the locker room for him, but he wasn't there to thank him. 

 

He was already on his way into an ice bath. 

 

 

__

 

 

 

Watching television distracted Stefanos for the most part, sitting on the floor beside his bed with two bottles of water right next to him.

 

He felt alright now, as alright as he could considering how unwell he'd felt before. 

 

It was a soap opera, the sort they show late at night, and two women were yelling at each other. Something about their families and how one of them slept with the other's man.

 

Very, very confusing and convoluted. 

 

Even more so considering it was nearly ten at night.

 

With the show still playing, he went onto his Instagram and started to scroll past the multitude of pictures.

 

It made him miss his photography.

 

Made him miss making videos that he loved editing so much. 

 

He turned his phone off and pressed his face into the duvet. 

 

Now that he was single, he could go back to filming but even thinking about it made him anxious.

 

Stefanos jumped slightly when he heard a knock at the door. 

 

Last time he'd checked, he wasn't expecting anyone. 

 

He could ask who it was, but he didn't have the energy to string together so many words.

 

"It's open." Stefanos spoke up, as the two words were far easier to say. 

 

The doorknob clicked and the door pushed open, none other than Sascha Zverev coming in. 

 

That was quite unforeseen. 

 

"Hey," The German starts, closing the door behind him before walking over, "I heard about what happened, you feeling okay?"

 

Stefanos nods his head as he picked up a water bottle, unscrewing the top and taking a drink.

 

"I'm fine, it was just really hot." 

 

"What about your arm?

 

The Greek paused and looked down at the wrapping around his arm, "I think it's fine, doesn't really hurt anymore."

 

"You were bleeding a lot."

 

"I don't really remember."

 

Sascha had a hand behind his back as he took a seat on the floor in front of Stef, "I got you something."

 

Stefanos found himself shifting away slightly, pressing his back against the bed. 

 

"Why?"

 

"Thought it might cheer you up."

 

"But there's nothing wrong, I feel fine."

 

"I talked to Apostolos, he's the one that got me to come. I know what happened earlier."

 

Stefanos frowned at that, quickly starting to drink his water again just to stop talking.

 

Sascha waited a moment before pulling his hand from behind his back, holding out a Christmas cracker; but Stefanos didn't know what it was.

 

He looked slightly puzzled by it. 

 

Before he could ask, Sascha was quick to tell him, "It's a Christmas cracker, they're a British thing."

 

"Isn't that kind of... out of season?"

 

"Yeah, but they were on sale at the shop. I thought it was cool."

 

Despite the explanation, Stefanos still didn't get it. 

 

"Here-" Sascha held one end and extended the other end for Stef to take, "Grab that end of it."

 

Stefanos listened, taking it in his hand. 

 

"Then, pull on it. Whoever gets the bigger piece gets what's inside."

 

The concept might've been foreign but it was easy to learn. 

 

At the same time, they pulled before the snap inside cracked. Stefanos jumped slightly in reaction, having not expected it; much like the door from earlier. 

 

Sascha got the bigger piece. 

 

The room became quiet as the German shook the contents inside into his palm, including the small toy and folded paper crown.

 

Stefanos watched, letting out a short sigh as he set the smaller end on the floor. 

 

Sascha noticed as he unfolded the shiny, gold paper crown and paused. 

 

"Are you sure you're alright?"

 

He didn't get a response for a moment. 

 

"No, I'm not. I'm never sure about anything anymore." Stefanos very honestly said with a shake of the head.

 

Sascha looked at him as he spoke before moving so he as directly in front of him, kneeling down. He took the paper crown in hand and leaned closer, placing it on his head.

 

It caught Stef off guard, as when he saw his hand raise slightly, he flinched at first. 

 

Closing his eyes, having been conditioned into thinking that he was going to be hit. It shocked him that when he opened his eyes, nothing had happened. 

 

His heart had quicked somewhat, which Sascha noticed. 

 

Stefanos looked up at him in surprise, eyes gradually becoming watery. 

 

Sascha smiled at him. 

 

"Crowns suit you more than I'd like to admit." 

 

A few tears fell down Stef's cheeks, shakily breathing in and lunging forward; knocking Sascha back with a tight hug. 

 

They both stayed like that for a handful of moments.

 

Stefanos could only ask 'why', not getting why he was being so kind to him.

 

When they pulled away, Sascha found himself gazing at him with something of a serene expression. 

 

"I thought you hated me."

 

Sascha shook his head.

 

"I never hated you. My first impression of you was you yelling at me in Miami." 

 

Stefanos frowned at that.

 

"If could've done that differently, I would've."

 

"You were upset, I can't blame you for that."

 

Everything became silent once again, Stefanos pressing his forehead against Sascha's. 

 

Though they didn't say it verbally, they both were thinking the same thing.

 

They wanted the same thing.

 

Before either of them could react, Stefanos pulled away and let his back press against the side of the bed. 

 

"It's-" Stefanos stuttered slightly, biting his lip for a moment, "It's late, I should probably sleep."

 

Sascha knew it was a ploy to avoid the unavoidable, but he didn't want to come on too strong. "You're right, sorry."

 

"No, you're fine," Stefanos reassured him as he reached up to gently touch the crown, a small smile cracking through, "Thanks for this."

 

"You look nice in it, maybe you should wear that on court next time." Sascha smiled as well, the shininess of the gold foil catching his eye. 

 

"Maybe it'll actually make me win a match." 

 

While that sounded like a joke, there seemed to be a level of truth to it. The tone of his voice sounded somewhat dishearted. 

 

"I don't have your number." Sascha blurts out of nowhere, internally kicking himself because it didn't sound nearly as acceptable out loud as it did in his head. 

 

Stefanos tilted his head in reaction before letting out a small laugh. "I was going to ask you for it the other day." 

 

He picked up his phone from the ground, pulling up his contacts with his number displayed. Holding it out, Sascha took it, getting his own phone to put the number in. 

 

Once he did, he handed it back and looked at Stefanos. 

 

With the crown sitting atop his head, he looked awfully cute. 

 

"Hey," Sascha spoke, only to get his attention. Once Stef looked at him, the German quickly snapped a picture. 

 

That was Stef's contact picture. 

 

"Oh my god-" Stefanos leaned over to look at his screen, "Did you take a picture of me?"

 

Sascha just laughed, turning his phone off and tucking it safely away in his pocket. 

 

"Maybe." 

 

"Wow, I hate you." 

 

"Thanks." 

 

They both couldn't help but smile, Sascha standing with the toy he got from the cracker in hand. 

 

"I hope you sleep well." 

 

Stefanos only moved from the floor to the bed, pulling the duvet back as he looked up at Sascha. 

 

"I hope so too." 

 

Sascha just gave him a small pat on the shoulder, walking away from him and to the door. He lingered just long enough to hear Stef speak.

 

"Thank you." 

 

No response was needed.

 

The door opened and gently closed.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a relatively major scene of violence in this chapter so please keep that in mind xx

 

It was shocking how much Stefanos had been writing in his dream journal, which was his mother's idea, but even more so with how many of them were nightmares.

 

He found himself waking up almost every hour, having to quickly write down what he could remember, but it didn't help much.

 

Breathing heavy, small beads of sweat dripping down his face as he stared at the ceiling.

 

Trembling.

 

Stefanos had woken up three times, giving up on sleeping by then. 

 

It wasn't worth the terror that only seemed to get worse with every horrifying dream. 

 

He shifted to look at the clock, which read 2:29 in the morning. 

 

His dad and mum would surely be asleep, as well as his siblings and Frederic. 

 

As he took a moment to stare at the clock, he reached over and picked up his phone. 

 

Instagram couldn't hurt.

 

The pictures were the usual, mostly of other players who had won their matches with some foreign cities and cats. 

 

It didn't exactly calm him down, but it distracted him. 

 

After a few minutes of that, Stefanos found himself to be alright enough to turn his phone off and sit up. 

 

The curtains weren't drawn, so he could see the lights of the city from his window. 

 

He loved the view, it was incredibly beautiful; even at two in the morning. 

 

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, the Greek slowly stood up with a stretch and come to the decision that a shower might be in order.

 

Turning on the lamp and walking to the closet, he just pulled out some random clothing and tossed it on the bed before going to the bathroom. 

 

It smelled like fancy lavender soap. 

 

Lavender was calming, so he was honestly fine with it. 

 

He didn't think about how far he turned the dial to start the shower, it didn't really matter at the time. 

 

Stefanos was undressed and in the now steamy shower, wincing slightly in reaction to how hot the water was. 

 

Very, very scalding. 

 

His skin became flushed bright pink and somewhat raw in reaction to the heat.

 

However, he didn't turn it down, mostly because he just didn't have enough will to do so. He'd get used to it after a few minutes anyway.

 

It was very routine, and his whole ritual was finished in ten minutes but he lingered for a bit.

 

A thought drifted into his head as he stared at the opulent granite that covered the walls, closing his eyes slowly.

 

He was thinking about Sascha. 

 

His smile, beautiful blue eyes, blonde hair and, most vividly, his touch. 

 

It was incredibly gentle, always. 

 

When Stefanos was around Sascha, he made him forget about Nick.

 

Sascha reminded him the Nick he'd been sweet on as a seventeen year old, the one he loved so much. 

 

It made him remember what a loving touch felt like because he had been so long without it. 

 

His back pressed against the smooth wall, finding himself daydreaming about this man that he could remember at fourteen.

 

They'd met three times when they were in juniors, never played a singles match but were at the same events. Doubles, however, they had played once. 

 

Marrakesh, Naples and Frankfurt. 

 

Frankfurt was home territory for Sascha, but luckily for Stefanos, he lost in the third round and only had doubles to worry about.

 

He would've played Sascha had he won. 

 

The only time they saw each other at that event was awkward.

 

Stefanos cringed at the memory of how shy he used to be. 

 

 

**

 

 

Despite towering over everyone in his daily life at 193 centimetres, Stefanos felt surprisingly normal sized for a sixteen year old at most tennis events he competed in.

 

He crashed out in the third round of singles at the Carnation Cup, just one round shy of meeting number one seed Alexander Zverev. 

 

Sascha, people apparently called him.

 

They had only met two times before that, Sascha managed to make him feel short. 

 

If his memory was correct, Sascha only said 'hello' before Stefanos got so nervous that he literally walked away without saying anything. It never went past a hello between them.

 

This time, however, he'd try to not come off so impersonally. 

 

Considering Stefanos still had doubles, he stuck around the venue to wait for his Uzbek partner to show up. He was running late by seventeen minutes. 

 

That wasn't what bothered him; he was Greek after all, they weren't exactly known for their punctuality.

 

What  _did_  bother him was when he saw none other than Sascha Zverev walk right past him, and even worse, backtrack and look at Stefanos fearlessly.

 

It was Stefanos that was scared, Sascha had no reason to be.

 

"I know you," He starts, raising an eyebrow, "Right?"

 

The stupid shyness was creeping in again, Stefanos's mouth briefly left slightly agape as he's lost for words.

 

"Uh-" He finally speaks with a small nod, "Yeah- yes."

 

Sascha tilts his head slightly before a smile appeared, laughing. 

 

"Tsitsipas- you're the one that always get out of singles before you play me." 

 

"I do?" Stefanos genuinely asks, since he didn't even know that the German had won his match. 

 

"Yeah," He confirms, "Must be a subconscious thing." 

 

Curious, Stefanos pulled out his phone to look at the singles draw. He was right, he lost just before he'd meet him.

 

As he kept speaking, Stefanos pulled up the doubles draw as well with a slight exhaled laugh. He turned the phone screen to Sascha. 

 

They'd be meeting each other in the next round of doubles.

 

Sascha laughed, grinning now, Stefanos still wanting to escape but not knowing how. 

 

"There's a first for everything," Sascha nods as he pats Stef's shoulder lightly. 

 

"Good luck." Was all Stefanos could think to say, letting out an inaudible groan in reaction to how stupid he sounded. 

 

"I guess I'll need it."

 

With that, it seemed like the conversation was over as Sascha was walking away; before he turned around to look at him once more.

 

"What's your name again?" 

 

Stefanos blinked a few times before managing to find his voice, "Stefanos." 

 

Sascha nodded for a moment, still smiling as he repeated it, "Stefanos. Well, good luck to you too, Stefanos."

 

The German clearly liked the name rolled off his tongue. 

 

Stefanos found his face becoming incredibly hot and, more than likely, flushed. With that, Sascha walked away. 

 

He stood in place, not knowing what to do now. Taking a few steps back, he just took a seat on the bench to keep waiting. 

 

 

**

 

 

Stef and his partner ended up losing their doubles match against Sascha and Andrey Rublev.

 

Just as he opened his eyes, he could hear his phone ringing extremely loudly. 

 

'When the hell did I turn the volume up that high?' Stefanos asked himself mentally, quick to turn off the water and get a towel around himself. 

 

He reminded himself that, because it was new, he'd never adjusted the factory settings. Just transferred everything over and left it. 

 

Without slipping and falling, he managed to get to his phone just in time to see who called him. 

 

He stared at it for a moment. 

 

Missed phone call and voicemail from Nick with two purple and gold hearts beside it.

 

Nick called him.

 

Stefanos missed Nick's call.

 

Nick called him and Stefanos missed it.

 

He didn't want to call back, but he wanted to at the same time.

 

It felt like he  _needed_  to call him back.

 

'What kind of boyfriend would I be if-'

 

 _No, shut up,_ _you're not with him anymore. He shouldn't call you, and you don't have to talk to him anymore._

 

'That wasn't fair.'

 

_You're being stupid, you don't owe him anything._

 

'I owe him everything, he wasn't even that bad.'

 

_Remember when he sold your Wimbledon Juniors' trophy for a Playstation 4? You had to spend three months trying to get it back._

 

'But I still got it back. Maybe it's important.'

 

_Don't call him back. Listen to the voicemail, you'll know if it's important._

 

Stefanos was arguing back and forth with himself, unable to stop staring at the notification on his phone. 

 

Missed phone call and voicemail from Nick with two purple and gold hearts beside it.

 

He unlocks his phone and listens to the voicemail, pressing it against his ear as he didn't hear anything immediately. 

 

Until Nick's voice erases the silence. 

 

He's just barely singing, it was so quiet but Stefanos knew exactly what it was. 

 

"Ninety-nine dreams I've had," Nick sings into the phone, "In every one, a red balloon."

 

Stefanos had to sit down on the bed in response to hearing that, trying to ignore the slight sting of tears at his eyes. 

 

"If I could find a souvenir, just to prove the world was here; and here it is; a red balloon."

 

At the same time as Nick, though Stef knew he couldn't hear, he weakly spoke the last lyric out loud.

 

"I think of you, and let it go."

 

99 Red Balloons was one of Stef's favourite songs, and it was the song that played when Nick drove him to the zoo on their first date.

 

It was their song. 

 

That was it, that was the entire voicemail. It ended right after that and Stef let the tears trickle down his face, not knowing what to do.

 

He was left thinking;  _why did Nick do that?_

 

_To make him realise what he was missing?_

 

_To make him feel guilty?_

 

If either of those were the intended effects, then it was working. 

 

His hand that held the phone fell into his lap as he started silently crying.

 

Every time it seemed like things were looking up, it would just come crumbling down all over again.

 

If dying was an option, Stefanos would've taken it.

 

Anything would've been better than having to suffer every second of every day, the pain of it was unbearable. 

 

Stefanos did his best to dry his eyes, wiping away the tears from his face as he stared down at his phone. 

 

He needed someone else, someone that wasn't himself and his increasingly destructive thoughts.

 

It was a long shot, but he sent Sascha a text. 

 

'can't sleep, can i stay w you for a bit'

 

Honestly, he wasn't expecting Sascha to be awake but he was desperate. 

 

With that thought in mind, Stefanos tried to put it out of his mind as he got dressed and back into bed. 

 

Nick terrified Stefanos beyond belief, and this time was no different.

 

Stefanos was shaking as he sat in bed, staring at the ceiling. 

 

Somewhere between texting Sascha and blankly staring, he actually fell asleep briefly.

 

It was just like the last three attempts.

 

Nightmarish.

 

**

 

 

The last time Nick visited Stefanos in Greece was in mid-November 2018. 

 

That was the last time he was allowed to stay with them. 

 

Stefanos sat at the dining room table with Elisavet, teaching her how to use the camera that the Next Gen Finals had given him as a participation gift. 

 

She was interested in photography much like he was, so he planned to give it to her on Christmas. 

 

Julia and Apostolos went out to lunch together, leaving the eldest, youngest and Petros at home; as well as Nick.

 

Stefanos had been incredibly upset with Nick the day before, finding out he'd stolen one of his ITF 25k trophies and sold it for extra money. 

 

He got over it, however, there wasn't much else he could do aside from giving Nick the cold shoulder- which was exactly what he did.

 

Nick came downstairs and walked past the table, not even looking at Stefanos.

 

"Hey Lisa," He greeted her as he always did, still completely ignoring Stef. 

 

Elisavet looked at him with a smile, waving. She had no clue about what had happened. "Hi Nick." 

 

Nick smiled a bit as well as he walked to the kitchen.

 

Stefanos handed Elisavet the camera.

 

"Take some pictures by the water, you'll get some nice ones, okay?" 

 

She nodded and got up, excitedly running off to test out her newfound camera skills. Stefanos waited until she left to let out a short sigh. 

 

"Nick, I told you not to come down here until my parents got back."

 

"I wanted something to eat, or am I not allowed to do that either?"

 

Stefanos rolled his eyes in response, standing up and walking into the doorway before pausing there with his arms folded over his chest.

 

"Get something to eat then go back upstairs." 

 

Nick shook his head as he looked around the kitchen, before looking at Stef.

 

"I can't believe you're still fucking mad at me."

 

"There's a lot of shit that I can't believe but I have to deal with it, unlike you."

 

"God- Stef, it's just a fucking trophy, you have other ones."

 

Stefanos scoffed, "And if I sold your Australian Open trophy, what would you do?"

 

"You wouldn't."

 

"I wouldn't? What if I did?"

 

"You know better, I know you wouldn't." 

 

"Are you threatening me?" 

 

Nick didn't respond, rather just opened the refrigerator door and took out a bottle of orange juice.

 

Under his breath, Stefanos muttered 'I fucking hate you' out of frustration, turning around before something flew past his head and shattered against the wall. 

 

Nick threw a glass at him and very narrowly missed his head.

 

"What the fuck did you just say?"

 

Stefanos didn't want to even face him, suddenly regretting even bringing it up.

 

He knew he shouldn't have talked to him but he was still upset, he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

 

"Nothing, it doesn't matter." 

 

His eyes were closed, something he always did when he was scared. 

 

Nothing was happening for a moment. 

 

Everything was still and far too quiet.

 

Until Nick grabbed him from behind and slammed him face-first into a wall, grabbing hold of his left arm and wrenching it behind his back painfully. 

 

Stefanos didn't react very quickly, having to take a moment to even realise what had just happened.

 

"What the  _fuck_  did you say?"

 

"Nick, that hurts-"

 

"Answer the fucking question or it's going to hurt a lot more."

 

Still, he didn't want to repeat himself because he didn't mean it.

 

Stefanos didn't hate him, he never could.

 

"Please stop."

 

Nick didn't hesitate to tug his arm up so hard that it felt as though his shoulder was going to dislocate. 

 

The pain caused him to scream, and that only made it worse.

 

No amount of struggling was going to bring him any relief, that caused it to be worse as well.

 

"You said you hated me." 

 

The way Nick was speaking was incredibly bitter, like he was offended. 

 

"Well, the feeling's mutual." He hissed lowly, giving his arm another rough tug.

 

"My shoulder-" Was all Stefanos could manage, before he let out an ear piercing and partially broken shriek. 

 

The feeling wasn't a fluke. 

 

Nick had dislocated his shoulder

 

__

 

 

Once again, he woke up with trembling wracking his whole being; the sound of his own screaming still very fresh in his mind as he was starting to hyperventilate.

 

Those were the dreams that were the worst. 

 

The ones that really happened, leaving you with terror that couldn't be explained.

 

He relived it and it terrified him so much, that he couldn't scream. 

  

_'I can't do this.'_

 

It was true, he couldn't do it. He couldn't handle that anymore. 

 

Nick's soft-sung lyrics still rang in his head, as did his own terrifying scream from the memory.

 

Sitting up now, he looked around. 

 

His eyes paused at the minibar. 

 

_What's the worse that could happen?_

 

Alcohol only hurts people if you're driving or out in public. 

 

Stefanos moved the covers away as he got out of bed, sitting on the floor in front of the minibar and opening its door.

 

The first two things he saw were three little bottles of Grey Goose vodka and some orange juice.

 

So, he mixed two of them into the bottle of juice and completely downed it within ten minutes.

 

He made up another one but managed to get too drunk, too quickly and couldn't drink it all; only half. 

 

Just his luck, he was a complete lightweight and it didn't take much to get him completely wasted. 

 

His phone let out a loud tweeting noise, meaning he got a text. 

 

Stefanos stood up, although he almost fell over a few times, before managing to grab his phone and knocking the journal onto the ground. 

 

It was hard to read for a moment, but it cleared up after going over it a few times.

 

Sascha had texted back. 

 

'sure, i can't sleep either. u know my room #??'

 

'b ther in a sec'

 

Stefanos wasn't having the easiest time texting, but managed to sound somewhat coherent before getting up shakily. 

 

Room 236. 

 

He stayed very tight to the wall, mostly to avoid falling and hurting himself on the journey to the room. 

 

As he walked, 99 Red Balloons played in his head and he hummed along to it out loud. 

 

It made the distance seem less great, passing time just a little quicker before he finally stopped outside of room 236. 

 

Much to Stefanos's surprise, it looked just like his door; only with different numbers.

 

He reached his hand out to touch it, finding it to feel the very same as well.

 

After standing there for a moment in drunken wonder, he finally knocked a few times.

 

The hallway was incredibly silent, being that is was around twenty past three in the morning; until Sascha opened the door.

 

He didn't have a shirt on; he'd been trying to sleep but clearly couldn't. 

 

The German looked at him, a twinge of fatigue in his face as he did so. 

 

"Hey," Sascha spoke in English, a neutral expression on his features. 

 

Stefanos flashed him a grin, very briefly glancing down at his chest. 

 

"Hey," The Greek responded, but in Russian. "I missed you." 

 

Though his speech was somewhat slurred, Sascha understood perfectly though he raised an eyebrow in reaction. 

 

"You missed me, huh?" He chuckled a bit with a vaguely smug smile, shifting the conversation to Russian and opening the door fully to let him in. "Something tells me you've had-"

 

"Vod-ka," Stefanos laughed as he sounded it out, walking past him before he knocked right into the desk. "Ow- stupid... desk." 

 

Sascha had to keep himself from laughing, putting his arm around Stef's shoulders almost protectively. "You're an idiot." 

 

"At least I'm not stupid," He spoke before quite quickly realising how idiotic that actually sounded, "Okay maybe I am stupid..." 

 

Stefanos shifted his weight so he was leaning against Sascha, who led him to the bed and sat him down. 

 

"Were you planning on getting drunk when you texted or...?" 

 

"Nightmares happened and I'm tired and I thought that the drinking would make me more tired and not have any more nightmares so no I didn't plan it but it just sort of happened."

 

It was a bit difficult to understand at first, since he was slurring so much, but Sascha got a general idea.

 

"Okay, long explanation, maybe you should get some sleep then."

 

Stefanos stared at him for a second, pursing his lips in thought before shifting to lay down.

 

"But I missed you, I wanna talk to you."

 

"Why don't we talk when you're not drunk?"

 

"Because I'm not all scared or nervous to talk to you when I'm drunk. I just found that out, it's so cool."

 

Sascha slowly nodded as he sat down on the other side of the bed, directly beside the Greek. "Probably because you've never been drunk before."

 

"I'm...gonna blame Nick because this wouldn't have happened if he hadn't called me." Stefanos still kept talking, though his words were trailing off and syllables were blending where they shouldn't have. 

 

The room went silent for a second as Sascha laid on his side next to him, supporting his head against his hand and looking at him. 

 

"I don't think I've heard you talk so much, it's kind of weird."

 

"I've never heard you talk so little, it's really weird." 

 

Sascha rolled his eyes in response to that, nudging Stef with his elbow. "You're such a dick." 

 

That big grin on the Greek's face distracted him somewhat, it was so bright. 

 

"Maybe I learned it from you." Stefanos joked as he shifted onto his side to face him. "Do you remember when we met in Frankfurt and it was super fucking awful."

 

Having to think about that for a moment, Sascha let his eyes drift upward to stare at the ceiling. "Uh...maybe?"

 

"I played you in doubles." 

 

"Oh," The German seemed to muse for a moment before the memory finally came back, his face lighting up, "Oh! Yeah! At the Carnation Cup, right?"

 

Stefanos somehow smiled even more, nodding his head happily. "Yeah you totally murdered us." 

 

"Wouldn't say that, you took a set off us, y'know."

 

No response came this time.

 

Stefanos was gazing at him, a sparkle in his eyes that he'd never witnessed before except for the Toronto press conferences. 

 

Sascha felt very calm, a gentle smile on his lips. 

 

"How would you react if I told you that I used to like you." Stefanos asked quietly, words still slurring somewhat.

 

Sascha wasn't expecting something like that, softly chuckling it off. He didn't think he was being serious. 

 

"I would say I wouldn't blame you." 

 

It was a joke, Stefanos knew that and he let out a laugh. 

 

"Okay what if I said I really really liked you." 

 

He spoke softly as he shifted a little closer, imagining the two of them as teenagers again. 

 

Sascha's short hair, glowing blue eyes, his wide, toothy grin when things went his way; it was like looking at a photograph from 2014. 

 

For a moment, he forgot that it was 2019. It felt like 2014. 

 

Stefanos let his eyes close, keeping that image of Sascha in his head as his smile dissipated into a softer one. 

 

Still, he shifted just to where their noses were almost touching. 

 

As the room and silence settled around them, Sascha found himself staring at the other; more specifically his lips.

 

They were distracting him. 

 

Sascha let himself lean closer with a hand cupping his jaw, causing the Greek to just barely open his eyes. 

 

Stefanos noticed him hesitate slightly; so he didn't for the both of them.

 

When their lips finally connected, Sascha completely melted into it. 

 

He shifted off his side, leaning over the younger man and refusing to let it break. 

 

Stefanos's hand became entangled in the German's hair, the other on his neck as he pulled him down somewhat.

 

The passion was strong, so strong, in fact, that Sascha's eyebrows furrowed as he deepened it further. 

 

Heaven, it felt like absolute heaven. Sascha had never imagined that it would've been  _that_  wonderful.

 

It didn't last as long as Sascha would've wanted because he remembered that Stef was drunk.

 

This wasn't right.

 

He pulled away, the Greek's eyes slowly opening before a small whine fell past his lips. 

 

"Get some sleep, okay?" Sascha lowly spoke, hoping that it would be enough to end it. 

 

"I love you." Stefanos responds very honestly but with a look in his eyes as if he were about to start crying. 

 

Not knowing what to say, Sascha simply smoothed his hair under his palm so it pulled away from his forehead; pressing a very short kiss to it. 

 

"Sleep well."

 

Stefanos was being stubborn, though, he held onto him with a hand now on his shoulder. "Please say it back." 

 

Stubborn wasn't the right word.

 

Desperate.

 

Somehow, Sascha didn't notice it before. 

 

That look on his face wasn't sadness, even though there was a chance he'd begin to cry.

 

Stefanos wanted to feel like someone loved him.

 

That was all he wanted, someone to make him feel loved the way Nick couldn't.

 

He didn't want to play into it, but with the situation, Sascha decided that it would do more good than harm considering there was a decent chance he wouldn't even remember the next morning. 

 

"I love you too." 

 

Surprisingly, Stefanos shook his head. 

 

"English- say it in English so I know you're being serious."

 

Sascha rolled his eyes but with a small smile on his face. 

 

"I love you too, Stef," He reassures, which seems to satisfy him. The smile returned for a moment as he pressed another short kiss to his lips. 

 

 

Sascha moved away to turn off the bedside lamp, getting under the duvet and laying down. Stefanos didn't wait to nestle right beside him, falling asleep almost instantly. 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really sorry this took so long! i hope it was worth the wait & you lot enjoy it xx

Finally, the Australian Open was over.

 

Stefanos liked the event a lot and it was always fun to be there, but he wanted nothing more than to get back home and leave what happened behind.

 

Or, in this case, go to his new apartment he'd got in Monte Carlo.

 

He joked to his family how he was 'a real tennis player' now that he had a place there.

 

It needed to be furnished, and Stefanos had ordered some things online that would get there the day after he did.

 

That would give him time to sleep, recuperate and be able to drag all of the furniture inside by himself.

 

With his suitcases and bags already packed, he took himself out to explore the city a bit with Petros and Elisavet.

 

Nothing extraordinary happened, all three of them stopped at a Brazillian restaurant for açaí bowls then got shaved ice to counteract the Melbourne heat.

 

The trio was out for around three hours before coming back to the respite of the air-conditioned hotel room, Apostolos and Julia having stayed behind to straighten everything up.

 

Stefanos sat on the couch opposite where his brother and sister had splayed themselves haphazardly, exhausted from the Australian weather.

 

When he opened his phone, having turned off his text notifications, he found three texts from Sascha.

 

It made him feel bad.

 

'i'm sorry abt what happened'

 

'please don't be upset'

 

'i hope ur ok'

 

After that night, Stefanos hardly remembered what had happened but Sascha felt too guilty; so he told him.

 

He couldn't be angry at anyone but himself, but he took it out on Sascha.

 

Sascha took it, and Stefanos left without apologising. They hadn't spoken in three days.

 

The Greek stared at his phone before letting the screen go black.

 

With a short sigh, he placed it face down on the coffee table before leaning back with a stretch.

 

In six hours, Australia wouldn't be his problem anymore.

 

His eyes closed, imagining the temperate breeze of the Monaco ocean blowing in his face instead of the egg cooking heat of Australia.

 

For a moment, Stefanos touched his hair.

 

It was too long.

 

Too long.

 

_Too long._

 

He shook his head.  

 

Six hours until his almost twenty-hour flight back to Europe.

 

He could handle another six hours.

 

 

__

 

 

Stefanos was proud of himself.

 

He managed to live through the whole twenty-six hours, making it from Australia to Athens, Athens to Nice and taking an Uber from Nice to Monte Carlo.

 

Luckily for him, he very politely asked the man who worked for maintenance at the apartment building to drag his bed frame, duvet, pillows and mattress in and put it together before he got there.

 

Stef gave him fifty euros, because it was a nice thing to do.

 

The man was very nice.

 

When he got inside his brand new apartment, he didn't spend any time looking around or getting excited.

 

Instead, he dropped all of his bags in the unfurnished living room, walked to his bedroom and hid under his duvet.

 

He needed the sleep, that trip was exhausting.

 

The moment his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.  
  
  


__  
  
  


 

When Stefanos opened his eyes, the room was pitch black.

 

Jet lag managed to mess up his sleep schedule more than usual.

 

He reached over to pick up his phone, flinching at the bright screen but managing to make out the numbers three seventeen.

 

It was three in the morning.

 

A loud groan left him as he put it back on the nightstand and buried his face into the pillow; praying that he could just go back to sleep.

 

That wouldn't happen though, and Stefanos knew it.

 

When he looked at his phone the next time, only fifteen minutes had passed.

 

It was hopeless.

 

Stefanos sat up and stared ahead, not being able to see as it was still dark outside.

 

He didn't have any lamps and the light switch was too far away to reach from where he sat.

 

As a product of his tiredness along with his inability to sleep, he laid back down and closed his eyes.

 

Theoretically, he could dream without sleeping to keep his mind occupied until sunrise.

 

If he were lucky, sleep would find him in the process.

 

His luck wasn't very good.

 

Stefanos opened his eyes to look at the clock.

 

Only twenty minutes had passed.

 

Frustrated, he finally got out of bed and flicked the lights on.

 

He opened the door in a somewhat angry manner, turning on the living room lights and grabbing the bag that had his laptop inside.

 

Though, he paused.

 

There was no wifi installed in his apartment yet.

 

All he wanted to do was scream out of sheer frustration, but it actually came out in the form of tears.

 

After the Australian Open he'd experienced, he just wanted things to go right afterwards.

 

The typical Stefanos Tsitsipas luck wouldn't stop plaguing him, it seemed.

 

Laying down on the hardwood, back pressed against the floor, he hid his face in his hands as he began sobbing.

 

Honestly, Stefanos had been expecting all his issues to disappear once he left Australia.

 

To find that they hadn't was the biggest slap in the face he could've ever had.

 

He'd left Nick back in Australia, yet brought the baggage of what he'd experienced back to Europe and there he was; so unbelievably upset over something stupid that he'd broken down and started crying.

 

Nothing had improved, but he had to deal with it on his own.

 

With everyone but Petros being back in Greece, he was the only person he had, but even he was in Nice.

 

That was roughly a twenty-five minute drive and Stefanos had no car, not even a licence.

 

'Get up.'

 

In an attempt to bring himself back to reality, he tried to speak to himself mentally.

 

'Get up.'

 

He didn't  _want_  to get up.

 

'Are you just going to lay there? Crying? That's not Stefanos. You're being ridiculous.'

 

_Am I?_

 

'Stop crying, get up, and work this shit out. This isn't the Stefanos I know.'

 

_How is it not? I'm the only Stefanos I know._

 

_'Get. Up.'_

 

"Come on..." He murmurs to himself quietly, sniffling and wiping away his tears quickly as his eyes refocused on the ceiling. "Get up, get up."

 

Stefanos took in a series deep breaths, in through his nose, and out through his mouth.

 

Frederic had taught him breathing exercises for when he experienced the panic attacks.

 

At least it was useful now.

 

He managed to sit up and relax a little, looking at the mess of his bags.

 

_Turn on your mobile hotspot and stay occupied until five, the cafe down the street opens then and you can get breakfast._

 

With his mind cleared somewhat, he found his way around the situation.

 

Stefanos was a problem solver by nature, it came with the price of causing many problems he'd then have to solve, however.

 

He listened to his brain, taking his laptop from his bag and walking back to his bedroom.

 

There, he settled back into bed with a breath of relief, the hotspot working and enabling him to go on the internet.

 

Technology was a lifesaver.   
  
  


__

 

 

Finally, Stefanos could see the sun brimming over the ocean from his window. He looked over and rubbed his eyes, breathing a long sigh of relief.

 

He'd missed that stupid sun.

 

The Greek looked back down at the words he'd typed out.

 

When he needed to get out his frustration, he would write short stories.

 

Within the few hours he had, Stefanos managed to write over nine thousand words and proofread it.

 

It was finished with no one to read it.

 

That's how it always was, though, and he didn't mind.

 

His stories were for him, after all, no one else. They meant to mimic what happened in his life, and his latest story was no different.

 

A woman escaping a dangerous relationship and finding comfort in another man.

 

That was his way of coping with it, even if he still didn't think he should've broken up with Nick.

 

Maybe, if the woman in the story was glad she left her very own Nick; Stefanos would start thinking the same.

 

Maybe.

 

_Wishful thinking._

 

Stefanos closed his laptop and pushed it to the end of the bed, shifting the duvet off of his lap.

 

He got out of bed and walked to the unfurnished living room, opening his bag to get a change of clothes.

 

At the very least, he was feeling much calmer, more serene than he had in the last year.

 

While the weight on his shoulders showed no signs of lightening up, Stefanos felt as though he could breathe.

 

When he finished getting changed, Stefanos walked to the bathroom to check himself in the mirror.

 

Presentable, he looked presentable.

 

It was better than he looked a few days ago.

 

Briefly running his fingers through his tangled mess of curly hair, a few of the knots brushed out and Stefanos smoothed it down a bit before walking out.

 

Lack of appetite or not, he had to eat; it had might as well be something tasty.

 

The furniture would be arriving at around nine thirty, so he'd have a few hours.

 

Out of habit, he looked through his text messages.

 

Stefanos's eyes stopped at the last text that Sascha had sent him while he was at the airport.

 

'have a safe trip, try & get some sleep if u can'

 

Even after that, he was still looking out for him somewhat.

 

Stefanos didn't know how to respond though. He felt guilty still.

 

Briefly, he thought.

 

Then he lightly bit on his lower lip before opening up their conversation.

 

'back at home, didn't get ur txts. sorry abt what happened, don't plan on getting drunk again'

 

That was the best he could come up with, which was, disappointingly, not particularly substantial.

 

He pressed the power button, watching as the screen went black.

 

After what felt like a minute or so, Stefanos tucked his phone away into his pocket.

 

From there, he picked up his keys from the floor beside his discarded bags and unlocked the door.

 

Stefanos left the room and started walking down the hallway, going towards the elevator.

 

The doors were metallic, they caught the light very well. It was polished.

 

Everything was quite perfect and fancy, which was in stark contrast to the man that stood at the entrance of the elevator.

 

Not to say Stefanos looked out of place, he just felt like it.

 

Inside the elevator was empty and the short descent was a quiet one.

 

The lobby was in a similar state with very few people inside, even the receptionist was staring at the computer on her desk in an attempt to not fall asleep.

 

Stefanos only took four steps out before he immediately saw a sickeningly familiar figure.

 

Even from behind, he was recognisable.

 

It took a lot of force to not turn around immediately and retreat.

 

There was a chance he could walk right past, the other not seeing him.

 

So, Stefanos sped up his gait and took the risk.

 

One foot in front of the other, eyes directly ahead with nothing but the intent to get out of the building.

 

"Stefanos?"

 

He froze in place.

 

_'Why did I think that would work?'_

 

The Greek looked over his shoulder briefly, looking right at Sascha who looked just as surprised as Stefanos was inside his head.

 

"What're you doing here?" Sascha asked, obviously curious since he'd assumed Stefanos was in Greece.

 

"I- uh," Stefanos took a moment to think before fully turning to face him, "I got an apartment here."

 

"You live here?"

 

Everything Sascha was saying so far were questions.

 

_'Hadn't he heard of curiosity killed the cat?'_

 

Stefanos slowly nodded. "Yeah- yeah I do now. My stuff is coming today."

 

Sascha nodded as well, as that seemed to satisfy him for the time being.

 

Or so he thought.

 

There was another part of that saying, and it came into Stefanos's head when Sascha asked another question.

 

_'...but satisfaction brought it back.'_

 

"Well, do you need any help with it? I'm free all day."

 

That was the last thing he wanted but Stef couldn't just say no, it felt rude.

 

He'd been bad enough last time they saw each other.

 

Agreeing was the least he could do, give Sascha something to do and feel useful.

 

Somehow, he manages a slight smile as he hesitantly nods, though the reluctance isn't noticeable.

 

"Sure, that'd be cool. I'll be back at eight."

 

"See you then." Sascha was smiling too.

 

Satisfaction really  _does_  bring a dead cat back from the grave.

 

With that, Stefanos waved very slightly before getting out of there as quick as he can.

 

In his head, he was cursing his own existence.  
  
  


__  
  
  


 

The moving turned very one-sided after Stefanos and Sascha dragged the couch in.

 

Stefanos's shoulder was killing him, but Sascha took over without even asking.

 

Actually, he _told_ him to sit it out and rest.

 

It made Stefanos feel awful but he didn't have much of a choice.

 

To counteract that feeling, he set up the television, since it didn't require any heavy lifting.

 

He laid across the couch with a bag of frozen sprouts pressed against his very sore shoulder after he finished.

 

Sascha brought it from his apartment that was one floor down from Stefanos's.

 

At the very least, there were only five more pieces of furniture to bring in.

 

The German did that in fifteen minutes.

 

"Guess I overworked you?"

 

Stef rolled in eyes in response, pushing his head back over the arm of the couch to look at him. "You wish."

 

Sascha scoffed as he glanced at him. "I'll have to try a little harder next time, I guess."

 

"Can't tire me out on the court or off, it must suck being Sascha Zverev."

 

"Is that the 250 you won talking?"

 

"Is that your early Grand Slam exits talking?"

 

"Touché."

 

Stefanos smiled victoriously, but it quickly disappeared as he winced from sitting up.

 

"How'd you, like," Sascha starts as he walked over, sitting beside him just a bit closer than Stef would've expected, "You know, hurt it?"

 

_There were two options._

 

_First option, tell the truth. Second, lie and say you fell down the stairs._

 

"I fell down the stairs," Stefanos shakes his head slightly as he presses the peas down somewhat, "Dislocated my shoulder."

 

Option number two it was.

 

"Oh, that sucks. Good thing you don't play with your left hand I guess."

 

Sascha wasn't the warmest person ever and Stefanos wasn't sure what he was expecting, but the response felt a little cold.

 

Like Sascha  _knew_  that Stefanos was lying.

 

"Things happen, it's really nothing."

 

Stefanos bit his lip for a moment in thought before waving his hand dismissively. "Sascha, you really don't need to, you've-"

 

Sascha wouldn't stop looking at him. It felt so bizarre. There was an emotion he couldn't read and Stefanos hated not knowing. 

 

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

 

"Did you mean what you said that night you were drunk?"

 

"I don't... even know what I said."

 

For some reason, Sascha abruptly stood up.

 

"Nevermind, it's nothing."

 

"No- wait, Sascha, what are you talking about?"

 

"Seriously, it's nothing."

 

"Maybe you should just tell me now?"

 

Sascha shook his head. "It's not bad, I swear. Let's just talk about it later, okay?"

 

Stefanos didn't get a chance to respond.

 

Sascha left before he could even speak again.

 

It only added to the oddness of the situation.

 

While he knew he'd been 'off the market' for a while, Stefanos didn't remember men being so cryptic and, simply put, not very straightforward.

 

'A lot can change in a few years I guess.' He thought.

 

Nick didn't set a great example for men, none were quite as blunt and honest as he was.

 

In a way, he missed it.

 

Knowing how another person felt or what they were thinking.

 

It certainly simplified things.

 

He was starting to feel nauseous now, even though his stomach felt incredibly empty.

 

Missing Nick? Stefanos thought he'd be over that by now, but he was having second thoughts.

 

Maybe he  _did_  miss Nick.

 

_Does Nick miss me?_

 

That was the million dollar question.

 

Stefanos shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. 'Think of something else.'

 

Dinner.

 

He could make Sascha dinner as a 'thank you' for helping him.

 

A text to the German confirmed it.

 

Yeah.

 

Dinner could work.

 

__  
  
  


 

Somehow, Stefanos found himself right back where he'd been in Australia; it all came on so abruptly.

 

All he could assume was that he didn't properly let everything out and deal with it when it happened.

 

He missed Nick, he wanted him back because he felt as though everything was wrong now. Life wasn't a calm, serene thing.

 

A piece of the Greek didn't want it to be. 

 

All of the thoughts of insecurity and worthlessness began to flood back, tugging at his irritating tresses of hair.

 

From the living room couch to the bathroom, the mirror only confirmed his fear.

 

How bad he looked.

 

He didn't move his gaze, reaching up to touch his cheek with the tips of his fingers.

 

Disgusting.

 

Then his eyes, Stefanos stared into them.

 

Brown, dull, incredibly ugly.

 

Stefanos covered his eyes as his elbows dug into the granite countertop, hands shaking somewhat.

 

The emotions he was feeling were a whirlwind of sadness, anger, betrayal, confusion with even more sadness and anger.

 

Now he didn't have to wonder why Nick had to seek out someone else to feel happy.

 

A woman with gleaming hazel eyes and long, shiny brunette hair.

 

Whatever he felt before, it was boiling down into anger now.

 

Stefanos couldn't stop thinking about her hair.

 

It was mocking him.

 

He pulled his hands away from his eyes, looking once again at himself and his own long hair.

 

Long for a man.

 

_Long for a man._

 

Nick liked his hair that long, it gave him something to run his fingers through.

 

It had been ages since he'd done that, so what was even the point of keeping it so long.

 

He had someone else's hair to caress and twirl around his finger, stroke and smooth it down under his hand. Nick didn't need Stefanos anymore because he'd upgraded, found someone better.

 

The Greek walked himself out of the bathroom and looked around amongst the boxes, ripping open almost all of them until he found a pair of scissors.

 

Stefanos walked back to the bathroom, letting out an audible groan when he saw himself once again. 

 

That question was enough to give him an excuse to find out. 

 

Without thinking, he started slicing off piece after piece of his curly hair.

 

It fell on the counter and the floor as the motion of the scissors grew quicker and messier, and the hair only got shorter.

 

Shorter, shorter, shorter.

 

He couldn't stop, even after he'd accidentally sliced his palm open from the vigorous motion.

 

A few strips of his hair were tinted with red blood as finally, there was no more hair to cut.

 

Stefanos looked at himself.

 

There was blood that had smeared onto his cheek.

 

For a moment, he felt nothing.

 

His eyes were empty as he stared back at himself, the mess he'd made of his hair

 

Stefanos felt empty.

 

He  _was_  empty.

 

The breaths that elevated his chest somewhat had become heavy without him realising it, tears now beginning to sting at his eyes.

 

_What did I do?_

 

As reality set in, turning his head down to look at the hair that covered the counter and he finally got a good look at his hand.

 

The cut was deep and it was bleeding.

 

It was bleeding,  _a lot_.

 

The blood had dripped onto the counter.

 

A tear managed to escape his eye.

 

When he finally looked back at the mirror, Stefanos shook his head as the tears didn't stop now.

 

In the span of an anger and anxiety fueled ten-minutes, he'd managed to chop off all of the hair that was the last crowning glory that he had.

 

It wasn't like his career was a highlight anyway.

 

Without the crown, he felt like a nobody.

 

Without Nick, he  _knew_ he was no one.

 

Somehow, he felt even more worthless than he did before.

 

Stefanos, despite the blood that had almost entirely covered his hand, touched the same places he had earlier.

 

He didn't care about the blood that remained when his touch was gone.

 

The tears just flowed heavier, mixing and trailing bloody streaks down his face.

 

Never in his life had Stefanos thought the smooth stone of the bathroom floor would be so comfortable. There, he let himself sink down and bury his face into his hands; beginning to sob uncontrollably.

 

However, the anger showed no signs of dissipating.

 

Stefanos tightly clutched his hand, blood running down his forearm as he let out a very loud shriek.

 

There was no other way to get his emotion out without stabbing himself in the throat.

 

He leaned back against the drawers now, almost out of breath as his brown eyes focused on the ceiling.

 

Slowly, they closed and he took a moment to listen.

 

To listen to the silence around him.

 

Stefanos finally reopened his eyes.

 

He glanced around as if the room were foreign territory. 

 

Only then did he feel a sting in his hand. 

 

The aching of his shoulder.

 

Aside from slicing all of his hair off, the only other thing that would be dumber would be to not treat his still bleeding wound. 

 

Before that, Stefanos managed to find his footing enough to stand and inspect the carnage of his hair. 

 

It wasn't great, but definitely fixable. Not as short as he'd thought either. 

 

Presentable enough to go out and get some bandages. 

 

He could trim it when he got back, that's what Youtube tutorials were for.

 

__

 

 

By the time he arrived back, he'd fixed his hair and wrapped his hand; but Stefanos was so exhausted that he collapsed onto the couch. 

 

Dinner wouldn't be on the table for that evening, but he forgot to text Sascha to not come over.

 

Having nearly dozed off, a knock came at the door.

 

Stefanos groaned loudly in response since he didn't want to get up.

 

Maybe, if he didn't say anything to him, then Sascha would think he wasn't there.

 

"Stefanos?" Sascha raised his voice just enough to reach past the door, but not bother the neighbours. 

 

No response.

 

The man on the other side waited a few moments. 

 

"Stefanos?" He repeats, the slightest bit louder now. 

 

Still, nothing. 

 

After another moment or so, the doorknob shifted and let the door partially open.

 

He'd forgotten to lock the door and Sascha was a bit too curious for his own good. 

 

The German peeked his head in, looking around before stepping in and taking a few steps to look in at the living room.

 

Someone was laying on the couch, but their hair was shorter than Stef's; although it was the same colour. 

 

"Sorry, I thought this was someone else's place." Sascha spoke lowly as he wasn't completely sure who was laying down, it was a lie though. It was Stefanos's apartment and he knew that, but he didn't want to worry the person.

 

"Sascha, it's me." Stefanos didn't attempt to get up and face him, he would've rathered to just curl up and die if it were an option.

 

Of course, it wasn't.

 

It was silent briefly.

 

"You got a haircut?" 

 

"I can't do dinner tonight, can you just go." The Greek changed the subject quickly, shifting a bit to lay on his side.

 

"Did something happen?" Sascha asks with a hint of concern lacing his words, but it was nearly undetectable. 

 

"God- do you not _listen_?!" Stefanos snapped at him unintentionally. 

 

Once again, the room fell silent as Sascha took a few steps closer. 

 

"What happened?" 

 

"I fucking cut my hair off, why do you care so much?"

 

"Why." 

 

While it might've been a question, Sascha spoke like it was a statement. 

 

"Because I  _hated_  it, is that what you want?" 

 

"I want the truth."

 

"And I want you to leave but you're not listening." 

 

"Stef, you're acting-"

 

"What? I'm acting like what?" Stefanos lifted his head this time, looking at Sascha with a somewhat nasty glare. He was hurting, Sascha could tell."

 

"...What's really wrong?" When Sascha asked, it was in Russian. He had a small frown on his face. 

 

Stefanos stared for a moment, lips parting briefly as he didn't know what to do. 

 

He shook his head a bit before he ran his fingers through his shortened hair.

 

"I don't know. I don't know." He responds in kind.

 

"Did Nick-"

 

"Please, don't..." Stefanos cut in, waving his hand dismissively. " _Don't_ bring him up."

 

"You lied earlier," Sascha stated the obvious as he took a seat at the end of the couch. "About your shoulder."

 

"Of course I did, I can't just-" He stumbled over his words somewhat, looking at the floor. "I can't just tell you _everything_."

 

"You can, you know." 

 

Stefanos shifted so his head rested against the arm of the couch. A slight pain surged through the previously injured shoulder, and the Greek held it tightly. "It...it's not your problem."

 

"Then make it my problem. I want to know."

 

"He dislocated my shoulder and it never fully healed." He admitted, not feeling much better after doing so. 

 

Only Sascha didn't respond immediately. 

 

It went silent. 

 

That made Stefanos feel somewhat uncomfortable, but he didn't know how to break it. 

 

He was starting to regret ever saying anything, bringing Sascha into that situation was a mistake anyway.

 

"Your shoulder." 

 

"...What about it?"

 

"Does it hurt right now?" 

 

The Greek nodded slightly.

 

Sascha waved his hand, motioning him to sit up and come closer. 

 

Stefanos complied and did so, still with a hand on his sore muscle. The German moved his hand away however and let his own plant firmly onto the younger man's broad shoulders. 

 

Gently and with a surprising amount of consideration, a small massaging motion began. 

 

At first, it hurt a bit, but it shifted into something quite comforting. 

 

As it would turn out, Sascha was very good in the massage department. 

 

Stefanos let his eyes close as shifted somewhat closer, mumbling something quietly; but Sascha heard.

 

"I'm sorry for bothering you." 

 

"To be fair," Sascha spoke softly, the Greek able to hear the smile on his face, "I was the one that walked in here, uninvited." 

 

Stef let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You're _nosey_." 

 

"Curiosity killed the cat." 

 

"Thankfully, you're not dead."

 

"Satisfaction brought me back." 

 

"What satisfied you, then?"

 

He shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure, but," Sascha paused for a moment before resuming, "I _think_ I've got a few ideas."

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a long time, i'm so sorry for the random updating gap! i'll try to release another chapter as soon as i can! i hope this was worth the wait xx

 

**

 

Melbourne had one of the largest Greek-speaking populations outside of Greece.

 

At least, that's what Nick told him.

 

It showed in the number of Greek restaurants that were in the city, all with authentic food and Greek owners.

 

Stefanos had never spoken so much Greek outside of his personal circle in another country like he did in Melbourne.

 

He loved Melbourne.

 

A lot of family friends lived there, so Apostolos planned a dinner out at a restaurant called Kyma. 

 

Nick was also invited.

 

It was the end of the second week in the Australian Open and Stefanos stayed behind to watch the matches.

 

At around six in the afternoon, Stefanos and Nick went to Kyma. A large table full of family friends and other people were waiting for them.

 

It seemed like the night would be the usual, Greek gettogether that Stef was used to.

 

An affair that started relatively early and ended into the early hours of the morning.

 

(  _You aren't remembering this for no reason, Stef._  )

 

The food was excellent, just like what he could get a twenty-minute walk to Athens city centre, and it was nice seeing old friends.

 

Nick was having fun too.

 

Everything was going really well.

 

Stefanos was talking to Andreas, Apostolos's friend from Athens, telling him about Nick.

 

He was speaking Greek however.

 

Then Nick started acting strangely.

 

He seemed upset.

 

Stef didn't really know what to do, so he just asked if he could talk outside.

 

Nick reluctantly agreed.

 

When they were outside in the warm, dark middle of the night, Stefanos asked what was wrong.

 

"You've been acting weird for the past, like, fifteen minutes, what's going on?"

 

"You were talking about me."

 

"...Yeah?"

 

"What did you say?"

 

With how Nick said it, he sounded angry.

 

Stefanos raised an eyebrow, frowning somewhat.

 

"What do you mean 'what did you say'?"

 

"You were talking badly about me, weren't you. Thinking I wouldn't catch it because I don't speak Greek-"

 

"Woah, woah," Stef looked dumbfounded for a moment, "You're kidding, right?"

 

"No I'm  _not_  kidding, this isn't a fucking joke."

 

"Why would I talk shit about you, right in front of  _you_? You're acting really paranoid."

 

"Tell me what you said."

 

"Why should I bother telling you? It doesn't seem like you're going to believe me."

 

"Tell me,  _now_."

 

"Nick, I'm not a dog. Don't talk to me like I am."

 

"At least dogs can fuckinglistenwhen they're told to do something."

 

This was a side of Nick that Stef hadn't seen before, an ugly side that he didn't like.

 

"You're being ridiculous." Stefanos shook his head and he turned around to go back inside.

 

Until Nick grabbed him by the arm and tugged him back forcefully.

 

He was nearly shouting now.

 

"Tell me what you  **said**."

 

Stefanos was frustrated at that point.

 

"Go home and sleep, you're acting like a fucking idiot."

 

Before Stef even realised what had happened, he felt his legs give out and he landed against the pavement directly on his side.

 

_Hard._

 

Without thinking, Nick had thrown a punch and hit him directly in the side of the face.

 

He almost knocked him out.

 

"Oh my god, Stef-" Nick spoke, seemingly in equal shock, quickly rushing to his aide; but he was shoved away.

 

"Don't touch me-" Stef warned the older man, trying to calm himself down. He was hyperventilating. "You just hit me."

 

"I didn't mean to, I swear to God I didn't mean it."

 

Nick didn't listen to Stef's warning, pulling him up and propping him up against the wall. His eyes were reddened with tears streaking his cheeks.

 

"You just fucking  **hit** me!" Stefanos shouted, with a trembling hand holding where he was struck.

 

Everything felt as though everything was spinning and moving around him.

 

He felt dizzy.

 

The Aussie couldn't believe what he'd just done, his hands were shaking as he cupped the Greek's face.

 

"I didn't want to hurt you, I'm so sorry."

 

"Get  _away_  from me." Stef's voice was weak but affirmative. "Get me a fucking taxi."

 

"Stef, your pa-"

 

"Get me a fucking taxi before I go into that fucking restaurant and tell my parents what you just did."

 

Nick looked scared by that, eyes widening in reaction. He hesitated momentarily before getting up and hailing a cab, luckily one was passing by.

 

In a weak attempt to ease the blow, Nick pre-paid for the ride.

 

Stefanos got up slowly and shakily, and when the Aussie tried to help him; he pushed him away again despite nearly falling over a few times.

 

"Stef, I'm sorry, you know I wouldn't-"

 

"Don't talk to me. Sleep in the guest room, don't come into my room."

 

"Stef-"

 

"Tell my parents I got sick."

 

He didn't stick around to hear Nick, rather getting into the taxi and slamming the door shut.  
  
  


__  
  
  


 

He spent almost all of the cab drive crying both out of pain and shock.

 

Stef couldn't even sleep that night. He was in his room watching some random Australian wildlife show.

 

Honestly, he was thinking of what had happened and what to do.

 

No answer seemed like the right one.

 

So, he listened to his heart rather than his head.

 

_( Look at where that got you, Stef. )_

 

His parents checked up on him, taking notice to the slowly forming bruise on his face.

 

He simply smiled and just told them he wasn't feeling well, the redness was nothing.

 

Luckily, they bought it.

 

Nick also checked up on him, against Stef's orders.

 

Stefanos glared at him the moment he saw his face.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

"I'm great," Stef responded flatly, "Can't you tell by the bruise on my face?"

 

"Look, Stef, I-"

 

"Don't. Don't start with your bullshit, I really don't want to hear it."

 

Nick shut up immediately.

 

Stef took a moment, glancing down with pursed lips; before looking at Nick.

 

"Just- tell me, is this ever going to happen again?"

 

"No, never, I swear." Nick quickly interjected, looking somewhat hopeful.

 

"Swear on what."

 

"I swear to God this will never happen again."

 

Stefanos seemed to process that for a moment.

 

He nodded slightly.

 

"Alright."

 

"I'm- I'm off the hook?"

 

"Don't sound so happy. You might be getting off right now, but this had better not happen again. Got it?"

 

"I'd never to that, I promise."

 

"Okay then, conversation over." Stef nodded his head. "All is forgiven, go to bed."  
  
  
  


 

**  
  
  
  
  
  


The ocean of blue gently rippling under the Monte-Carlo sun almost distracted Stefanos from his darkening thoughts.

 

Almost.

 

He'd sit on his balcony with his chin against his arms as they rested on the barrier.

 

As he stared down, his mind ran at a thousand miles a minute.

 

Recalling that night in Melbourne hurt him so badly that it felt physical.

 

He should've just left when he had the chance, but he trusted Nick.

 

Nick was everything to him.

 

Stefanos thought he could ignore his thoughts.

 

The, at first, quiet mumbles of things he thought were nothing, but they started getting louder.

 

Louder.

 

_Louder._

 

_Just do it._

 

_Do it._

 

**_Do it._ **

 

The front door opened and it snapped the Greek out of his daze.

 

"Stef, breakfast." Sascha called as he walked from the entryway hall to the kitchen.

 

"Coming," Stefanos replied in a hushed tone. His gaze didn't leave the ocean that shimmered like glitter under the sun.

 

Sascha didn't waste time setting the table, the German fulfilling the promise that he'd keep Stef company when he wasn't practising.

 

After a minute or so, Stef finally got up from his seat and walked to the kitchen. He looked at the small dining table, which wasn't as empty as it had been before.

 

"You okay?" Sascha asked with a tilt of the head. "You look tired."

 

"I'm fine, yeah." The Greek spoke quite dismissively, pulling out a chair to sit down. "Slept badly, I guess."

 

Sascha wanted so badly to say something, but he just shook his head ever so slightly.

 

It wasn't worth the potential argument.

 

"Your hair is growing out," Sascha changed the topic as he took a knife from the tabletop, slicing his bagel in half.

 

Stef only hummed slightly in response as he stared at the chocolate croissant the German had picked up for him.

 

He stared because he wasn't sure if eating it would be possible.

 

Stefanos felt incredibly nauseous.

 

It contributed to his unwell look.

 

All he really wanted was to go back to bed.

 

"Stef, are you sure you're alright?"

 

When Stefanos looked at Sascha, he looked genuinely concerned.

 

There was no hiding his continuous downward spiral from him.

 

Tears started to sting at his eyes as he shook his head, pressing his forehead into his palm.

 

Sascha frowned as he stood up, going over to him with open arms. "Stef, come here."

 

Stefanos took the chance to get a much-needed hug, hiding his face in Sascha's shoulder as he was pulled into the embrace. 

 

"I'm done, I'm done," The Greek said between tears, mumbled by the fabric of Sascha's shirt.

 

"Done with what?"

 

"Everything- fucking everything. I want to go home and be done with fucking tennis, I don't want to play anymore."

 

Honestly, that was shocking to Sascha. Stef loved tennis, dedicated himself to practice and always looked forward to the competition.

 

"Come on, that's a pretty big conclusion to jump to. Maybe you just need a break."

 

"No, I  _want_  to quit."

 

"Why?"

 

Stefanos shook his head, pulling away. "Why should I bother anymore? I suck, I'm useless."

 

"You made it to the fourth round of a Grand Slam-"

 

"I retired like some fucking-"

 

"Stef, don't do that. We all know what happened during Australia and that wasn't your fault."

 

"I just... need a break. I need to be away from the game."

 

"How are you going to tell your parents?"

 

The Greek hesitated for a moment. "I already did."

 

"Oh my god, Stef, you can't be serious?" Sascha looked at him as though he were crazy.

 

"I don't know what to do, okay?!" Stef raised his voice slightly, standing up and turning away. "What if I run into Nick again? What if I have to play against him? I don't think I can live like that for the next ten years!"

 

"Why are you going to let Nick ruin the rest of your career?" Sascha asked, attempting to reason with him. "He doesn't control your life anymore, Stef. You don't need to be scared of him."

 

"You don't  _know_  what he did to me." 

 

Stef ran his hands through his hair, pulling it away from his face.

 

When Sascha looked at him, he genuinely looked afraid and upset. 

 

Sure, the German had had a bad relationship here and there but he truly didn't understand what Stef was going through. 

 

"Sascha, you just don't get it." 

 

"Then make me get it. I want to help you." 

 

Stefanos paced a bit back and forth before looking at Sascha.

 

"You really want to know?"

 

Sascha took his seat, leaning back with a nod.

 

Stef pursed his lips before taking his seat again.

 

 

 

**  
  


 

 

Toronto was a high that Stefanos had only just got down from, having to face reality as soon as he saw Nick again.

 

In all brutal honesty, Stef hated Cincinnati.

 

Hated it so much that he just couldn't get into a winning mindset quick enough.

 

He lost to David Goffin, someone he'd beaten twice before then, in the first round.

 

During the whole cab ride back to the hotel, he was anxious about how Nick would react.

 

Slam the door in his face?

 

Slam his face in the door?

 

There were more answers than Stef would care to admit.

 

It made him sick to his stomach.

 

Stefanos paid for his ride and got out with one bag over his shoulder, another over the other.

 

He stared at the entrance to the lobby for a moment, but found himself moving forward anyway.

 

As soon as he'd entered the hotel, it seemed Stef had gotten to his room just as quick.

 

Nick was there, and he looked angry and upset.

 

What else was new?

 

Stef put his bags on the ground, glancing at Nick who was sat on the bed.

 

"Hey."

 

Nick's expression didn't change.

 

He stood up and walked over to him.

 

Now Stef's back was pressed against the door.

 

"That's all you have to say?  _Hey?_ "

 

The Greek furrowed his brows a bit, frowning. "I didn't want to look like I was ignoring you."

 

"You have some fuckin' nerve, coming back here after losing like that. Fucking Goffin? Are you kidding me?!"

 

Just like that, Nick started ranting at him loudly out of nowhere. 

 

Stef stopped talking- and listening- to be honest.

 

Despite them being the same height, Stefanos felt small against that door.

 

Nick had a way of making him feel stupid and weak.

 

With his head down and shoulders slumped, it must've looked like Stef wasn't paying attention.

 

Nick got angrier by that.

 

"Are you even fucking listening?"

 

The Aussie grabbed him by the jaw, forcing Stef to look at him.

 

Everyone is born with fight or flight instincts, and Stef used to respond in situations like those with fight.

 

Until Nick had broken him to the point where he hardly fought anymore.

 

Though he gained some courage in some very inopportune moments.

 

Like this one.

 

Without thinking, Stef shoved him off.

 

He'd had enough.

 

"Fuck you," Stef angrily spat as his gaze pierced into the other man,

 

Nick couldn't believe his eyes, he had a vague smile on his face.

 

The man took a step closer, but Stef wasn't moving.

 

"I'm- I'm sick of you fucking bullying and intimidating me," Stefanos spoke firmly, fists tightly clenched at his sides. "You don't scare me Nick."

 

"I don't scare you, huh?"

 

The vagueness of that smile disappeared, it was a full, sadistic visage now.

 

Abruptly, Nick raised his hand.

 

Just like that, Stef flinched.

 

A laugh escaped the older man as he then shook his head.

 

"You little bitch." He mumbled as he roughly took a fistful of the Greek's hair.

 

Stef was tugged from his spot, stumbling onto his knee before Nick threw him face first into the carpeted floor.

 

He'd hit the floor hard enough to see blood droplets soaking into the carpet. Though, he didn't get a chance to think about it.

 

The next moment, Stef was facing Nick now with his back against the floor.

 

"Are you scared of me?"

 

Nick was mocking him, beckoning him to answer.

 

That smile wasn't going anywhere.

 

A piece of Stef knew he just wanted to say yes, because it was true.

 

Stefanos was terrified of Nick.

 

It would get him to stop, he knew that.

 

He'd just given him a bloody nose.

 

What came out of his mouth told a different story.

 

"No."

 

It was firm.

 

Nick's eyebrows furrowed for a moment.

 

"What was that? I don't think I heard you."

 

Stef couldn't stop shaking, but also couldn't make himself stop.

 

"You don't scare me," The Greek firmly states once again. "You little bitch."

 

Stef spit in his face.

 

Nick recoiled in reaction, eyes widened with surprise as he used his jacket sleeve to wipe it away.

 

Words wouldn't have been able to describe how amazing that felt.

 

He felt triumphant. 

 

Until it was quickly taken away when Nick's hands wrapped far too tightly around his neck.

 

Nick took all of his frustration out by starting to strangle him.

 

Stef scratched at his arms and face, attempting to shove him off. He struggled but after a few minutes, started passing out.

 

He couldn't feel his hands and his chest burned.

 

Honestly, the Greek wasn't sure if Nick would stop.

 

Nick tightened his grip momentarily.

 

"Are you scared of me?"

 

Stefanos's eyes shut, not giving a response until Nick's hands tightened even further.

 

The Australian repeated himself one more time.

 

_"Are you scared of me?"_

 

During a brief moment of silence, Stefanos just barely managed to nod his head.

 

A part of Nick knew that if he didn't let go, he was running a risk of killing Stef.

 

Even now, the Greek was slipping out of consciousness.

 

Nick's hands didn't want to let go.

 

_Let go, Nick._

 

_**Let go.** _

 

 

**

 

 

"Because you lost to David?" 

 

Sascha knew Nick could be temperamental at times, but that was a whole other level that he'd never expect.

 

The recount of the story was a bit hard to hear, since Sascha had the images in his head.

 

From the time he'd found him on the hotel floor in Australia, the visualisation wasn't hard.

 

Stef shrugged his shoulders. "He doesn't need a reason to get angry."

 

"Well, you don't have to deal with that anymore."

 

Sascha leaned over a bit, reaching over to place his hand over Stef's.

 

The Greek looked at him, cracking a brief smile. "Let's hope."

 

"Hey," Sascha perked up a bit, getting an idea. "Tonight, we're going out. We're going to forget about all of this serious shit and just have fun." 

 

"Like, you mean to a club or a bar?" 

 

"Anything you want, but you need to get your mind off things."

 

Stefanos hummed in thought before nodding his head. "You know what, let's do it."

 

"Great! I'll come by at nine, be ready by then, yeah?"

 

 

__

 

 

Sascha stayed true to his word, picking up Stefanos at a little after nine.

 

Compared to that morning, Stef looked great.

 

A blue patterned button-up shirt, a black velvet blazer, jeans and black sneakers.

 

His hair was neater as well.

 

Honestly, Sascha preferred his hair shorter like that.

 

"Well someone decided to put some effort in, huh?" Sascha joked with a smile as they walked down the hallway together.

 

"Why not? Going out looking like shit isn't a good start to the evening." Stef laughed a bit. "You know where O'Driscoll's is, right?"

 

"Of course," The German nodded, pressing the elevator button. "Kind of hard to miss, it's the only Irish pub here."

 

Stefanos had a small smile forming on his face as they both stepped into the elevator.

 

"You know," He started, looking down at the ground. "I appreciate you looking out for me these past few weeks."

 

"It's not a big deal, you're one of my friends."

 

For some reason, that bothered Stef a little bit.

 

The word friend.

 

That didn't describe their relationship properly, at least not to Stefanos.

 

It was a short trip from the apartment complex to the pub a few streets over.

 

Within five minutes of entering, they both got drinks.

 

Stef usually didn't drink alcohol, so he got a mojito. 

 

Sascha teased him lightly for getting a 'girly' drink, since he'd gotten lager.

 

After two of those allegedly girly drinks, the night already started to get somewhat blurry.

 

With one drink in hand, Stef had an arm around some ridiculously tall Russian guy.

 

Was his name Aleksei?

 

He wasn't sure.

 

Stef hadn't been paying much attention, but Sascha was dancing with a brunette a few feet away. 

 

That's what he noticed. 

 

When Aleksei's arm dropped down around Stef's waist, the Greek leaned back a bit too far and dropped his glass onto the floor.

 

"Oh fuck." 

 

The only two words that left his mouth were slurred, groaning as Aleksei nudged him with a laugh.

 

To be honest, Stef had forgotten how much he'd drank.

 

He was going to go and get Sascha, but he couldn't see him now.

 

Aleksei offered to buy him another drink.

 

Stefanos accepted and finished his last mojito in the Russian's lap while they talked.

 

The music from the live band had quieted down.

 

"Will you come back with me?" Aleksei asked, his arms wrapped firmly around Stef's waist. "You're the most interesting person I have met."

 

Stef bit his lip as he glanced around, trying to see if Sascha was still there.

 

"I dunno, I came with someone," He quietly spoke. "I should probably ask him." 

 

"Okay, I hope it's a yes." 

 

Aleksei had a hopeful smile on his face. 

 

Suddenly, Stef didn't actually care enough to ask Sascha.

 

This guy was cute, nice and liked to listen to him.

 

He opened his mouth to say yes before Sascha showed up out of nowhere.

 

"Ready to go?"

 

Surprisingly, Sascha wasn't that drunk.

 

Stefanos stared at him, suddenly forgetting what he was going to say beforehand. 

 

He actually briefly forgot about Aleksei too.

 

"Yeah." 

 

His mouth spoke without him thinking. 

 

Aleksei looked at Sascha then at Stef, raising an eyebrow.

 

Sascha helped Stef up with a hand on his back. 

 

"Can I have your phone number?" The Russian asked, moving to stand up as well.

 

The German looked at the new man, noticing that he was a tad bit taller than himself.

 

"Yeah, of course." Stef agreed but turned to Sascha. "Could you give him my phone number for me?"

 

With how Stef was slurring so much, Sascha just nodded and took Aleksei's phone when it left his pocket.

 

He put it in with his name before giving it back, putting an arm around Stef's shoulders.

 

Aleksei didn't really know what to do, so he simply thanked him.

 

Sascha stared at him for a moment.

 

_'Why does he look so jealous?'_

 

That was the last thought Aleksei had before the pair walked away.

 

They left and started down the well-lit street.

 

It was silent for most of the walk until Stef broke it.

 

"Aleks is nice." 

 

"Yeah."

 

"He's like you."

 

Sascha glanced down at him. "Yeah, you think so?"

 

Stef nodded. 

 

"Wouldn't you say I'm like him? He's obviously older than me. At least twenty-eight, if not thirty."

 

"No, he's like you." Stef spoke quite confidently despite his obvious drunkenness. "He's like you because I know you first and I like you first and you're better."

 

"Well, that's nice of you." Sascha chuckled a bit, shaking his head. "If only you could say stuff like this when you're sober."

 

"Shut up, stupid."

 

Stef huffed with a frown, nudging the taller man.

 

"You were nice to me earlier, you know. I like that side of you."

 

"It's because you're always looking out for me and stuff."

 

"Why would I not look out for you? I like to think we're pretty close friends."

 

Then Stefanos got upset and stopped walking, instead, he turned and pushed him.

 

"Always you say this type of things! Friends, close friends and we are only fucking friends." Stef shouted, Russian mixing with English until it turned completely into slurred Russian. "An idiot you're a big stupid idiot moron that is so dumb."

 

"God, Stef, do you think you got enough synonyms for stupid in there?" Sascha retorted. "You're drunk, you can cut it out."

 

"I kiss you and you still call us friends!" The Greek responded with hands up. "What fantasy are you in to think for three seconds that maybe being drunk has nothing to do with the fact that I might like you?! Are we going to be like brothers next Sascha? Maybe you just don't care since you didn't care to talk to me the whole time we were there, I- I just talked to Aleks instead because you were with some other girl."

 

Sascha had to stop for a second.

 

Then he furrowed his brows.

 

By no means was he completely sober, and that contributed to his rash decision at that moment. 

 

He turned away from him and walked away.

 

Stefanos stood in place for a moment, watching him.

 

"Sascha," He called after him, but the German didn't stop.

 

Only once did Stef repeat himself.

 

Sascha had just ditched him.

 

Grumbling, Stefanos started to walk back, albeit with some stumbling here and there.

 

It added another ten minutes to his trip but he made it.

 

He saw his bed and fell in it, not changing his clothes or anything.

 

 

Sleep came almost instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any and all feedback is much loved <3 xx thanks so much for sticking with this story


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! it's been awhile and i'm really sorry for that. this chapter will be a bit shorter since i'm breaking it into two rather than one, so i hope you lot enjoy it. next chapter should be up in a few days!! thanks so much for sticking w this story <3

  


Honestly, Stefanos couldn't remember walking home the night before; but there he was.

 

He found himself staring up at the ceiling blankly, laying in his bed.

 

What time was it?

 

Stef looked around but couldn't find his phone, it wasn't on his nightstand.

 

Then it tweeted to signal a text.

 

The noise came from under the bedside table.

 

He turned onto his side to reach one of his long, toned arms down to grab it.

 

Expecting it to be Sascha, the soul nearly left his body when it was Nick.

 

Nick with the two purple and gold hearts beside it.

 

Honestly, he thought he was dreaming.

 

Stefanos stared at the message blankly for a few moments, getting lost in the words before his eyes.

 

_'can we talk??'_

 

First, Stef wanted to text or call Sascha.

 

Sascha was the level headed one that helped him in situations like those.

 

He was still upset about last night, though.

 

Being the stupid person he was, Stef decided to text Nick back.

 

'what'

 

'5 minutes and ill explain everything'

 

Stefanos could've sworn he heard a little voice in his head telling him not to respond.

 

That voice sounded like Sascha.

 

_Don't._

 

His teeth were tightly clenched as he stared at that text.

 

_Stef, don't._

 

_Don't._

 

'2 minutes'

 

He knew that Sascha would be pissed, but why bother thinking about him?

 

No point.

 

They weren't speaking.

 

This was Stefanos's decision, not his.

 

Maybe Nick wanted to apologise.

 

Stefanos called him.  
  


 

__  
  


 

Maybe calling him wasn't so bad.

 

Nick apologised, said how much he loved him and wanted just one more chance.

 

He and Ajla were history.

 

It felt a bit different to all the other times, too.

 

He sounded almost genuine, which was good enough for Stef.

 

They planned to meet up in Indian Wells.

 

Stef found himself longing for the tournament now, but that was some time away.

 

Sofia, then Marseille.

 

He wasn't expecting much of anything out of them, though.

 

His tennis had suffered from his lack of motivation, going in and out of depressive moods.

 

Honestly, Stef was convinced Patrick was on the verge of giving up on him; the same with his father.

 

It had become his mother mostly giving him advice and hitting with him.

 

Even now, he had finally picked up his racquet bag which had begun to collect dust and was walking down to the country club.

 

Julia was already there.

 

Stefanos walked past a mirror on his way out, but closed his eyes as he did so.

 

He dreaded to even think of how he looked.

 

Like rubbish, surely.

 

It would make sense.

 

That's what he was, after all.

 

His mother may have been helping him, but Stef could see the pain on her face when she saw him.

 

He'd become a shadow of the person he was.

 

A shell of her vibrant, creative and eternally curious son.

 

Simply, an empty void of a person.

 

A lost soul.

 

When Stefanos had the racquet in his hand for the first time in what felt like years, it felt foreign.

 

Though, his ears seemed to enjoy the light pinging coming off of the string bed.

 

His backhand had suffered from the lack of playing, but his mother seemed pleased that his deft volleys remained as crisp as they'd been at the Australian Open.

 

She focused mostly on getting his level back to where it had been.

 

It sounded a lot easier than it actually was, trying to fine-tune skills he'd developed over so many years when his head wasn't clear. 

 

They sat down on the bench courtside, Stef sipping on his water with eyes idly staring at the ground. 

 

Julia looked over at him, unable to keep a small frown from forming on her lips.  

 

She reached to place a hand on his back, feeling that he was trembling a bit. 

 

"Stef," She spoke very gently, shifting closer as he finally looked at her. "You can talk to me about anything, anything at all." 

 

Stefanos knew that, she always showed that and he knew it was true; but he felt as though no one could help him. 

 

"I know." 

 

That was the most he knew to say. 

 

The woman pursed her lips tightly for a moment before gently pulling him in for a hug, which he reciprocated. 

 

"I hate to see you like this, Stef. I want to help you." 

 

Help. 

 

That word terrified him. 

 

Without a word, Stefanos pulled away and picked his racquet back up. 

 

Julia watched as her son dragged the basket full of tennis balls down with him to the baseline. 

 

There, he started serving. 

 

She simply sat and watched. 

 

Her heart ached in ways unimaginable, but she refused to leave. 

 

She had to be there for him no matter what. 

 

__

 

 

In what seemed like only a few moments, three weeks had gone by.

 

Miraculously, Stef had played his way through Marseille and actually won.

 

He won a tournament at one of the lowest moments of his life. 

 

How? He didn't have the first fucking idea, but he wasn't complaining. 

 

The trophy felt cold in his hands as he smiled, raised it up and gave it a few kisses. 

 

For the first time in weeks, his father didn't look at him with pity.

 

Apostolos looked at him with pride.

 

Genuine pride. 

 

_'That's my son.'_

 

Stefanos felt proud of himself as well.

 

Apostolos looked the same down in Dubai as well, and Roger was incredibly kind to him.

 

He got some advice from him as well, and Stefanos couldn't congratulate him enough on title number one hundred.

 

Stefanos found himself imagining himself at Roger's age, holding his one-hundredth trophy.

 

It almost made him rethink his nagging thoughts of giving it all up.

 

The feeling was fleeting though, as soon as that happened he was already on a plane to California with a nice needle loaded with a dose of reality.

 

Right in the arm. 

 

He loved Indian Wells, but he didn't love it right now.

 

If he could've decided, he would've hidden in his apartment. 

 

Hid until the world forgot about him. 

 

He couldn't do that though, so there seemed no point in wishing and wishing for something that wouldn't happen.

 

On the car ride to the hotel, Nick texted him. 

 

A time and a place.

 

'i want 2 see u'

 

Stefanos still felt quite apprehensive with the whole situation, finding his hand was starting to shake somewhat. 

 

Petros noticed. 

 

"Stef? You alright?" 

 

It took a few seconds for Stef to even register that his brother had said anything, turning to look at him.

 

"Huh?"

 

"I asked if you were alright?" 

 

"Oh, yeah." Stef shook his head in the opposite way he intended. "I'm fine, yeah."  

 

Petros narrowed his eyes somewhat, obviously not believing him. 

 

However, he knew he couldn't say anything.

 

So, the younger man turned back to his phone. 

 

Stefanos hesitated to respond, but something- something insanely stupid- seemed to pull him in and force him to do so.

 

'be there soon'

 

As soon as the text went though, he regretted it. 

 

He regretted ever meeting him, ever laying eyes on him.

 

Ever giving Nick Kyrgios a single millisecond of his time.

 

Stefanos regretted being so miserable and stupid, and he regretted still being so miserably stupid. 

 

His eyes traced the landscape of the passing California scenery, the only respite he seemed to have from that situation. 

 

__ 

 

 

The place Nick sent him was a park, for some reason.

 

Stef thought it would've been a restaurant or something, but no.

 

It was just a park. 

 

He didn't really give an explanation to his parents as to where he was going.

 

Why should he? 

 

A grown man, twenty years old, should be able to go where ever he wants. 

 

So, he got an Uber to where he had to go. 

 

Not sure of what to expect, Stef just took a series of deep, calming breaths on the walk to the bench Nick told him to go to. 

 

It was fine.

 

Everything was fine.

 

Until he  _saw_  Nick.

 

He froze. 

 

_'Why am I doing this.'_

 

Stef suddenly became scared, unable to will himself to move from his spot. 

 

_Move, scream, start crying, for the love of God do **something**._

 

Nick noticed him in his peripheral vision, lifting his head to look at the idle Greek.

 

His expression was the total opposite of Stef's, surely.

 

The Australian looked relieved. 

 

"Stef," Nick started with a shockingly hopeful tone, tucking his phone away in his jacket pocket as he stood. "I didn't think you would actually- like, show up." 

 

Stefanos nervously swallowed as he seemed to regain almost all of his motor skills, his mouth incredibly dry. 

 

"Well, I said I would." 

 

It went silent between them for a moment as Nick walked until he was standing directly in front of him. 

 

He almost instinctively raised his arms to hug him, but was just as quick to stop. 

 

Nick put his arms back down at his sides.

 

"Can I touch you?" 

 

The fact that he even had to ask bothered Nick a lot.

 

_'No.'_

 

Stef slowly nodded against his conscience's advice, which was now screaming really mean things at him. 

 

So, Nick, very carefully, enveloped Stef in a loose hug with a hand on the back of his head. 

 

It took Stef a few moments to return it, smelling the cologne he loved so much. 

 

Stefanos didn't even realise he didn't feel scared anymore. 

 

Almost two months it had been since they last saw one another. 

 

"I like your hair like this." Nick broke the silence once again as he pulled away to ruffle the shorter curls. "Reminds me of 2018." 

 

It almost made Stef laugh, hearing that.

 

He'd kept it short all this time because Sascha had mentioned how much he liked it.

 

Stef missed Sascha.

 

He couldn't help but wonder if Sascha missed him.

 

_'Probably not.'_

 

"It's easier to manage." Stef tried his best to smile just slightly. "You got rid of your blonde streak."

 

Now that he started thinking about Sascha, he couldn't stop.

 

_'It's never too late to apologise, Stef, but if you keep waiting he might not accept it.'_

 

He became lost in his own head until Nick pulled him back to reality.

 

"Look- I know I've been horrible, but I've really, really changed." The Aussie spoke seemingly honestly, his hand holding the side of Stef's face gently. "I want to make things right." 

 

Stef didn't really react to those words, his face was quite expressionless. 

 

Taking a few moments to formulate a response, his eyes fell down to the ground before back at Nick's face. 

 

"I don't know if you're telling the truth." 

 

"I am, I really am Stef." 

 

The Greek didn't truly believe him, but he wanted so badly to. 

 

Badly enough to look into his dark brown eyes and convince himself that he'd changed.

 

That Nick Kyrgios, the man who'd put him through hell more times than he could count, had really, truly changed. 

 

Nick Kyrgios was a changed man.

 

_'Nick Kyrgios will hurt you again.'_

 

Nick Kyrgios is a different person.

 

_'Nick Kyrgios is the same man he was.'_

 

Nick Kyrgios.

 

Stefanos fought the voice in his head- the voice that sounded just like Sascha- like he so often did.

 

Nick Kyrgios  _is_  a  _changed_  man, and he was going to give him  _one_  more chance.

 

Stefanos very slightly smiled once more.

 

"How're you going to make it up, then?"

 

 

 

__

 

 

 

Just like that, him and Nick were a thing again.

 

A couple like they had been before, and Nick was acting quite normal. 

 

Stef lost early in both singles and doubles, Nick lost early, and they spent the remaining few days just doing couple stuff.

 

Nothing interesting happened. 

 

Seriously, nothing. 

 

Nothing aside from an apology to Sascha for how he'd treated him in Monaco.

 

Sascha gave a slightly blunt response, but a response nonetheless.

 

'it's whatever' 

 

That at least took a weight off of his shoulders.

 

As for Nick, His parents completely ignored him and made it obvious. 

 

Stefanos didn't really have anything to say about it, though. 

 

Like they said.

 

_'You're all grown now, Stef, you have to make your own mistakes.'_

 

That's what Nick was to them, what Nick was to Stef. 

 

A recurring mistake. 

 

They saw each other off the next few weeks.

 

Estoril came for Stef and he found himself holding another trophy, then he went on to Madrid. 

 

High altitude, clay-court tennis. 

 

Nick spent most of their practice sessions bitching about the conditions, how much he hated clay.

 

Stef was there to get his hour of practice in, so he just tuned him out. 

 

Apostolos was with Petros and Julia was the one who was there, mostly just keeping an eye on Nick. 

 

Practice went by quick enough and they went to the locker room together.

 

Stef got a quick shower, a change of clothes and left before Nick was even out of the shower himself.

 

The Greek mostly just wanted a nap, he felt drained. 

 

Later that evening he'd have to play Verdasco.

 

He wasn't looking forward to it at all. 

 

When he got back to his hotel, he crashed on the couch a lot quicker than he expected. 

 

 

 

__

 

 

 

Then he won. 

 

His memory for the last six months left a lot to be desired, and he couldn't remember anything half the time. 

 

He had to ask his father if he'd even played Sofia or not; he just didn't remember.

 

The most he remembered was Wesley calling him, asking how he was doing because they hadn't talked since Indian Wells. 

 

"I'm kind of worried about you, Stef, you haven't been acting like yourself lately." Wes expressed, having talked with Apostolos about it just the day before. 

 

"I'm fine, Wes, I don't know why everyone is so worried." Stef dismissed the statement like he always did, shaking his head despite knowing the Dutchman couldn't see him.

 

"The only person not worried is you." The man tried to explain, but seemed to simply give up halfway though. "I just want you to know you can always talk to me about anything." 

 

That was a bit of a relief to hear, he didn't know why though.

 

The offer even being there was nice, but it wasn't like it was going to be taken up on.

 

"You know I appreciate it." 

 

"I know. Take care of yourself, yeah?"

 

"Will do. See you tomorrow." 

 

Stef let out something of a saddened sigh when the line went dead.

 

He cursed himself each and every time he found himself pushing people away. 

 

He pushed, and pushed, and pushed.

 

Soon, no one would be left to push; and Stef knew that.

 

 _'No wonder.'_   Stef thought.

 

_'No wonder I don't have any friends.'_

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter deals w non-con ( not too explicit )

 

 

Just when Stef had thought he couldn't possibly feel worse.

 

It was typical by now.

 

The moment he opened his eyes, vision unclear with the typical sleepy cloudiness; he knew.

 

He felt like he was going to die.

 

Somehow, he managed to catch a virus.

 

Stefanos just laid in bed, swearing to and about himself in his head.

 

That voice still sounded like Sascha.

 

The Sascha he'd be playing that very evening.

 

He didn't want to, because he was so certain he'd just lose miserably.

 

With his phone in hand, Stef decided to go through his to-do list for that day instead of his usual, brainless Instagram stalking. 

 

It was to distract from his desire to text Sascha.

 

A haircut at eleven.

 

Practice at twelve-thirty.

 

Shopping with his sister at two.

 

Warm-up at two.

 

_No that's not right._

 

Warm-up at four.

 

The match was scheduled for five.

 

_Fuck it._

 

Stefanos went to his text messages, immediately selecting his conversation with Sascha.

 

'hey'

 

_That's creative, Stef. Where'd you come up with that?_

 

That little voice in his head just seemed to get meaner and meaner as time progressed.

 

Sascha texted back within two minutes.

 

'hey'

 

'we haven't talked much'

 

'thought u were still annoyed abt monaco'

 

'idc honestly i'm over it'

 

'well that's good, i'd hate to play u w so much tension u know'

 

'yeah.'

 

'anything new??'

 

Sascha stared at his phone screen, seeing the three little dots pop up almost immediately.

 

Stef was typing.

 

And typing.

 

Then it disappeared.

 

The German stared for another minute or so, expecting it to pop up again.

 

It didn't.

 

Stef called the salon he'd made his appointment at to see if he could move it to ten instead.

 

He didn't respond to Sascha, rather; he got up, got dressed and left to go get his hair cut. 

 

__

 

His hairdresser must've felt miserable getting him.

 

So much lovely, golden hair to work with and Stef wanted her to cut it shorter.

 

He hardly spoke except to cough into his jacket sleeve a few times because he felt like total garbage.

 

"Are you alright?" The hairdresser asked with a thick Spanish accent, gently snipping the hair between her fingers.

 

Stef laughed at that, but not because it was funny.

 

It was a laugh of irritation.

 

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" He inquired, mostly asking himself instead of the woman.

 

"You don't seem very alright. Quite the opposite."

 

"Maybe I'm not then, I don't even know anymore."

 

The woman looked at him through the mirror for a moment before combing through his hair once again, sectioning off one part. "You want to talk about it?"

 

Stefanos paused.

 

He thought about it.

 

This is a woman he'd never, ever, see again.

 

"I mean," Stefanos started, leaning back a bit more. "Are you sure you want to know? It's kind of dramatic."

 

"I'm a hairdresser, you wouldn't believe the things I've heard."

 

"Tell me something first."

 

She had to stop for a moment to think, looking up briefly before starting her motions again.

 

"Well, I had a woman come in here, complaining to me how her husband was cheating on her and she set her house on fire in the process of catching him in the act."

 

Stef blinked a few times before glancing at her through the mirror.

 

"That's pretty- well, loco, so to speak."

 

She laughed at that.

 

"Mucho loco."

 

The Greek still found himself hesitant to speak, but he knew he had to or it'd come out at an inopportune moment.

 

"I've been in this off and on relationship for the last... two years," Stef spoke, deciding to make it out a bit differently for the sake of the situation. "Her and I, we get on well enough but other times she's just a complete nightmare. When we weren't dating each other for a bit, I met another girl who is a friend but..."

 

She raised an eyebrow as she turned his head a bit to continue trimming. "But?"

 

He frowned a bit.

 

"I got drunk one night, told her I loved her and kissed her."

 

"Oh, that's not good."

 

"Tell me about it. I feel bad, but my girlfriend doesn't know that."

 

"I mean, if you two were separated then no harm done, right?"

 

"I guess, but I think I might've meant it when I told her."

 

"Well, do you love your girlfriend?"

 

Stef had to think about that.

 

Whether he still loved Nick or not.

 

"I-" Stef found himself stammering a bit, furrowing his eyebrows. "I think I do, I've invested so much in her that I don't have a choice anymore."

 

"So you're only staying because you don't think you have a choice?"

 

"Maybe? I think I do love her, but I'm just sca-"

 

He immediately stopped before he finished his sentence.

 

That irrational fear haunted him, that perhaps Nick would feel his ears burning and know he'd been speaking about him.

 

"I appreciate the help, I just needed to get that off my chest." He finished with his shoulders somewhat slumped. It felt like a surrender.

 

"It's no trouble." The hairdresser smiled as she finished up, running her finger through for a finish. "You should come back here sometime, I'm in love with your hair."

 

Stef smiled a bit at that, letting her take the hairdressing cape off before standing.

 

"Whenever I'm here, I'll come."

 

Carefully counting the money in hand, he handed it to her.

 

She nodded her head as she took it, waving as he turned on his heels and left. 

 

 

__

 

Auto-pilot.

 

That's what Stef had been relying on for most of the tournament when he wasn't on the court.

 

Nick was off doing God knows what, Stef hated to admit that he just didn't care.

 

It was a hassle just to even get out of bed, let alone actively support an already fractured relationship.

 

As much as Stef wanted to make himself believe they could go back to their very abnormal definition of normal, it wasn't happening.

 

Now, he looked at himself in the mirror.

 

His match outfit looked immaculately clean, hair shiny and tame underneath his headband.

 

Just because he felt awful didn't mean he needed to look the part.

 

A part of him knew why he decided to put in a little extra effort, feeling unwell or otherwise.

 

That'd be the first time in months he'd be seeing Sascha face to face.

 

Be in within ten metres of Sascha.

 

He wanted to look decent.

 

The effort felt worth it, and he honestly didn't feel as bad when he went out from the locker rooms to stand in the tunnel that led out to the court.

 

Sascha was coming out after him, so he stood just behind him.

 

With a bag over each shoulder, Stef stood more patiently than he had in months.

 

The announcer sounded pleased to be introducing him to the noisy Spanish crowd, so he held his head up.

 

When he walked out, waving to the crowd a bit, he remembered why he loved his sport so much.

 

For moments like these that could only happen here.

 

Stef felt like he'd gone there with a mission.  


 

 

__

 

 

 

Stef wouldn't be shocked if Wilson reprimanded him for laying waste to four of his racquets after the match had ended.

 

One wasn't enough.

 

Neither were two or three.

 

When he'd completely destroyed the fourth one, to the point that the handle snapped off; only then did he feel just a bit better.

 

That double fault up match point.

 

_That double fault._

 

It ruined him.

 

He was so close to victory, he could smell it.

 

It smelled like unpurified water, dust and sweat.

 

5-2 serving 40-15 up.

 

Then the ball was out.

 

Stefanos couldn't believe it, he shouted and pleaded with the umpire; praying to God that he was looking at the wrong mark.

 

Fergus had to tell him it was long.

 

Sascha took full advantage then.

 

Before Stef even had the chance to blink, he heard it.

 

"Game, set and match, Zverev."

 

6-4 2-6 7-5.

 

The handshake was quite brief, Stef unable to even formulate any words.

 

There was nothing he could do about it now.

 

Madrid was over.

 

Stefanos didn't even go to his scheduled press conference.

 

The fine didn't matter anymore.

 

Nothing did.

 

The steam of the shower felt a bit therapeutic, but the water was too hot.

 

He didn't have the energy to turn it down, even though it was scalding; his skin flushing pink in reaction.

 

Much like the match, the transition from shower to the hotel was blurry.

 

'Auto-pilot.' Stef reminded himself.

 

His family did him the favour of leaving him to be on his own.

 

There were big decisions to be made in Stef's already overly cramped mind.

 

With this loss, the Greek was getting ready to call it quits- if even just for one season.

 

Take some time to find himself.

 

Stefanos laid across the couch, eyes burning into the ceiling as his head laid back against the armrest.

 

The time had run away from him.

 

The door opening snapped him from the trance he'd been in.

 

His face felt wet.

 

Using his sweatshirt sleeve, Stef wiped the tears from his cheeks as he sat up to see who'd come in.

 

Nick looked at him.

 

"You okay?"

 

"I told you not to come," Stef responded flatly, laying back down because- to him- it wasn't anyone important.

 

An important person would've been his actual family, the ones actually cared and he knew they wouldn't show up.

 

"I know, but I was worried," Nick spoke quite softly as he walked over, sitting down beside him. He leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek.

 

"I'm fine, I just want to be left alone."

 

The Australian seemed to only be half-listening as his hand cupped Stef's face, thumb tracing along his cheek.

 

"You've been crying."

 

"I cry all the time, what else is new."

 

Stef hadn't been looking at Nick, but he was now.

 

He was looking at him in a slightly weird way.

 

Without a warning, Nick kissed him.

 

It was too rough, too hard, too quick.

 

Stef turned his head away to break it.

 

"Nick, can you go away now-"

 

"Come on, you know I can cheer you up." The Australian persisted.

 

There was something of a sinking feeling in Stef's chest, his hands started shaking.

 

Something wasn't right.

 

Nick started kissing his neck, and Stef didn't want him to.

 

He didn't know how to say no all of a sudden.

 

"Nick, I- I'm really not in the mood." Stef managed somehow, pushing him away without much force.

 

Then, it was as if his whole mind went blank.

 

His wrists hurt like absolute hell all of a sudden, and he felt like he couldn't breathe.

 

If there had been a situation Stefanos had never thought he'd land himself in, it was this one.

 

Now that he was in it, he was too scared to do anything.

 

Scared to even breathe.

 

Tears were stinging at his eyes painfully now.

 

All he could feel was a very numb static, pins and needles.

 

He didn't know what was happening, as if his brain had just completely blocked it out.

 

Nick was speaking, but he couldn't hear him.

 

Without thinking, he broke his wrists free of Nick's grip when he felt something.

 

Something in a place that he didn't want to feel anything.

 

Nick was doing the one thing Stef never thought he would. 

 

_He was about to._

 

Stef pushed him away, knocking the lamp over in the process.

 

He stumbled over himself just trying to get away.

 

Cutting his hair shorter didn't help, the Australian took hold of it as quickly as he could.

 

The coffee table was in the way and Stef's back hit it.

 

Hard.

 

It knocked the wind out of him and he couldn't catch his breath.

 

Nick had him by the hair, pulling him up to face him.

 

"Why do you  _always_  fucking do this?"

 

He spoke as if it were Stef's fault.

 

_'It's not my fault, I swear to God it's not my fault this time.'_

 

The Greek stared at him, thinking of how he'd gotten to this point.

 

Those dark brown eyes, the more Stefanos stared into them the more he found himself being roped in.

 

Then a small voice spoke.

 

Only to him.

 

_'Run.'_

 

It was hard to hear, Stef had closed his eyes for a moment as he started to hyperventilate.

 

_'Run, Stef. Please.'_

 

Those words.

 

They sounded like Sascha.

 

The sensation of Nick taking hold of his neck caused Stefanos's eyes to then snap back open.

 

 ** _Run_**. 

 

Without thinking, he threw his fist anywhere it would land.

 

Right on Nick's nose, it seemed.

 

He let go, then, immediately clutching his nose.

 

Stefanos took a few steps back, drawing air into his chest shallowly and a bit too rapidly as he was seeing Nick only becoming more enraged.

 

"You lied, you lied to me." Stef couldn't muster up any emotion anymore. He looked at the other man in the eye now, but he wasn't being roped in anymore.

 

He didn't feel anything at all.

 

Nick didn't go at him again.

 

Those words, Stef found himself repeating them out loud repeatedly.

 

They ran circles around his head as he only continued to back away.

 

Stefanos's back found the wall before he somehow managed to run out, despite feeling like his legs were going to give out.

 

His pace slowed down as he got away from the room.

 

Gradually, his mumbling of the phrase subsided as he became lost down the hall.

 

An elevator seemed to magically appear in front of him, and he took it as a sign.

 

For a moment, he forgot where he was.

 

Forgot what had happened.

 

He was only just realising he didn't have any shoes on, just socks.

 

Only socks.

 

_'Why don't I have my shoes on?'_

 

Without even realising it, he ended up outside of Sascha's door.

 

Stef stared at it, raising his hand and putting it down at his side at least ten times before hesitantly knocking.

 

It became cripplingly silent as he waited.

 

Then the doorknob shifted.

 

Sascha opened the door partially until he saw Stef, eyes becoming wide.

 

Stef wasn't sure why, though.

 

"Stef, what-" Sascha couldn't speak for a moment before opening the door fully. "What  _happened_ to you?!"

 

To say he looked like a wreck would've been an understatement; his sweatshirt was slightly torn at the collar, his hair was incredibly messy and his face was tear-stained, yet he looked so, so empty.

 

He didn't get a response, only a short stare and the smallest of shrugs.

 

Sascha reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Stef immediately moved away before he could even get close.

 

It gave Sascha a really, really bad feeling.

 

The German motioned for him to come in, allowing him to almost hesitantly walk in.

 

"I'll get you something to drink, okay?"

 

"Could I shower?" Stef asked, itching at himself slightly.

 

"Yeah, of course. I'll get you something else to wear and we can talk, yeah?"

 

"Thanks."

 

The few responses he did get were very, very short and not very helpful.

 

While Stef went off to take a shower, Sascha was making him a cup of tea.

 

He wasn't great in a crisis, but he could try his best.

 

The cup of tea was set on the nightstand and a pile of clean clothes on the bathroom vanity, Sascha now sitting at the end of his bed with the television on.

 

It was mostly just background noise since he wasn't paying any attention.

 

Stef came out of the bathroom, a towel around his shoulders with his hair still damp.

 

Sascha looked over at him.

 

"Feel any better?" The German asked, seeing him nod a bit.

 

"Kind of." The younger man responded as he took a seat, looking at the tea before picking it up and taking a few sips. "You didn't have to make me this, you know."

 

"I know, but you looked like you needed something to make you feel a bit better." Sascha didn't try to get any closer, but he turned to be facing towards him. "You want to talk?"

 

Stef didn't respond, his mouth becoming incredibly dry. He shook his head, looking down at the carpeted floor.

 

"That's fine, just try to get some sleep then. I'll be out here if you need me."

 

Sascha stood up and stopped himself from instinctively patting his back.

 

Instead, he simply left the bedroom and went out to the living room with the door shutting behind him.

 

Stef stared after him, shifting in his spot before getting up and locking the door.

 

He only did it to feel slightly safer.

 

The bed was a lot more comfortable than his own.

 

It didn't smell like Nick either, it smelled just like Sascha.

 

Burying himself in the comforter, he hid under it as he then attempted to fall asleep.

 

It took over an hour but eventually, he drifted off.

 

In his mind, he kept telling himself the same thing repeatedly.

 

Nothing happened.

 

 

Nothing happened.

 

 

_Nothing happened._

 


End file.
